Night Hammock

The balcony air turned chilly, but I spotted something dangling from the metal drying rack! A striped dish towel was hanging low, fluttering gently. Swing, hop! I caught the fabric with both hands and scrambled up, hauling my body right into the soft fold. Creak! The clothespins held tight. I curled into the cloth cradle, swaying slightly above the concrete tiles while city lights flickered in the distance. My arms are tucked tight, perfectly snug for the night.