Night Nest

My right hand reached out into the dim gap behind the armchair, trailing along the cool skirting board. Night had settled over the quiet room. Shuffling forward until my back pressed against the plush upholstery, I let my heavy legs fold down onto the hardwood. My single eye fixed on a loose, frayed coil of gray yarn wedged in the corner. Slowly, deliberately, my blunt fingers gathered the soft strands together, pressing them into a messy little cushion against the wall. The button and dried leaf remained tucked safely inside my shirt tear as I leaned my head against the woodwork, still and content.