A Bed in the Wool

My paws trotted back inside through the door, tired from the library's long carpet corridors. Night had settled deep. By the foot of the dark armchair, a thick knitted wool throw blanket had slipped off the cushion, pooling in dense, heavy folds across the floorboards. Instead of nudging it aside, I dropped my chest straight into the center of the pile. I turned two slow, deliberate circles, packing down the soft yarn beneath my heavy paws until a hollow shaped to my body gave way. I rested my chin flat over the warm cable knit, eyes half-lidded, listening to the quiet room.