A Folded Rest

The front door clicked shut behind me, sealing out the dark park air. In the hallway alcove, a thick wool blanket lay rumpled across the cedar storage chest. I approached with steady, deliberate strides and halted squarely before the wood grain. Reaching forward with both hands, I caught the fringed hem between my blunt fingers. I pulled the coarse fabric taut, aligning corner to corner with measured patience. Leaning downward, I pressed my heavy palms along the centerline to flatten the trapped air. One further fold reduced it to a dense, level square. I stepped back, locked my joints upright, and rested.