A Fold of Warm Towel

I trundled past the doorway and bumped softly against a neat stack of freshly dried laundry resting on the floor. Leaning my squishy side into the base of a thick waffle-weave towel, I gave a firm, patient wiggle. The warm cotton folds yielded with a quiet rustle, parting just enough for me to squeeze inside. The residual dryer heat wrapped all around my belly, smelling faintly of sweet lavender. I flattened out into a snug, golden disc between the textured ridges, perfectly cupped in the soft valley. A tiny, muffled hum buzzed contentedly in my chest as I let my sides settle.