A Soft Fold

I padded away from the credenza as evening shadowed the room, aiming for the deep armchair. Hopping from the footstool to the seat cushion, I found a forgotten, thick woolen mitten resting curled like a soft nest. A tiny silver safety pin was pinned through its ribbed cuff, gleaming faintly under the lamp. I paused, watching the shiny metal. Stepping close, I nudged the pin's smooth head with the flat of my wing. It gave a muted, tiny click against the knit yarn. Satisfied, I nestled my belly into the mitten's hollow, letting the warm wool wrap around me.