Night in the Canvas Pocket

Deep darkness settled into the crevice of the armchair pocket. I stayed nestled at the bottom, my belly pressed against the sturdy canvas seam. Right in front of my nose, the heavy roll of paper tape rested firm and still. Slowly, I shifted my weight, turning in the narrow trench until my plush back touched the thick cloth lining. I tucked my front paws beneath my chest. Carefully, I folded both pink wings down tight, pressing them flat against the stiff pocket walls like two soft wedges. Resting my chin directly over the taped ring, I watched the faint sliver of lamplight gleam along the pocket's upper hem.