A Soft Landing

I pushed past the bedroom door into the long hallway. At the turn, a thick gray wool sock lay dropped beside the wicker basket. I nudged it with my nose. It rolled easily, bunching into a soft mound. Carefully, I eased forward until my round belly rested right in the center of the ribbed knit. A tiny pearly button was trapped in the weave, cool and smooth against my cheek. I stayed still, letting the fabric cradle me.