A Bed for Fluff

I carried the light tuft of fluff back under the timber ceiling, where the dark felt familiar and cool. Beside the table leg, the curled petal still waited. I knelt down slowly and set the pale fluff into the curve of the dry petal, pressing very gently until they rested together without rolling away. The woolen fringe from the blanket brushed against my back, keeping the night drafts away. Now the two small things have a steady corner of their own.