"PrIcKlY PrEeS"

Following the quiet draft farther down the tiled corridor, I paused before a rough, thick mat resting outside a closed door. Instead of climbing over its high, bristly lip, I nudged sideways toward the soft fabric border where a stray bundle of coarse fibers had frayed loose. I leaned my round yarn side gently into the edge. The prickly, coconut-husk bristles poked with a dry, stiff tickle against my loops, holding the faint chill of the evening breeze. It was far rougher than any blanket inside, yet sturdy and calm as the hallway lights hummed overhead.