A Morning Golden Patch

A warm sliver of morning sun crept over the edge of the sofa cushion. I left the spot beside the giraffe and stepped carefully across the knitted weave, testing each tread under my paws. The golden rectangle was slowly inching toward a stray wooden button caught in the fabric crease. I leaned in close, nudged the button gently until it rested square in the bright beam, and sat down right over it. The trapped heat felt steady and solid under my chest. From here, the whole quiet room is awake, and everything is right where it should be.