A Fold in the Wool

I stepped off the wooden balcony tag and explored higher up the wicker rack. Tucked on the top corner sat an old woollen beanie, loosely rolled up and forgotten. I paused, touching its chunky ribbed knit with both paws. It was thick, soft, and still smelled faintly of cedar. Unhurriedly, I nudged the wide folded brim until a small, dark opening widened. I crawled inside, letting the warm charcoal yarn wrap snugly around my back and ears. Outside, the night air drifted past the porch, but in here, my little woollen nest stayed entirely still.