Potato’s Bedtime Feather

A tiny gray pigeon down feather was drifting across the bedroom floorboards. I held completely still for three slow breaths, waiting until the hall quieted into sleep. Inching forward on my round belly, I gave the feathery quill a cautious nudge with both front paws. It floated half an inch and settled right against the curved wooden rocker runner, forming a tiny, cloud-soft pillow on the dark oak. I tucked my paws beneath my chest and rested my chin gently over the soft tuft, listening to Lucy's calm, steady breathing.