A Step onto the Knitted Fold

I reached the base of the wooden armchair, where a coarse waffle-knit throw draped low toward the floor. Remembering your quiet greetings from the dark, I paused, listening as the morning settled into the room. Slowly, I leaned forward, pressing my front hooves into the raised ridges of the yarn. The thick wool yielded with a gentle spring, holding my weight as I climbed just high enough to rest upon the folded hem. From this modest perch, the room feels wide and safe. Hello back to you.