A Bed in the Flannel Hem

I waddled away from the patio door as night settled, heading across the rug toward the quiet corner by the warm radiator. A soft brushed-flannel pillowcase had tumbled from the basket, its wide hem curled into an open fold against the floorboards. Beside it lay a smooth wooden spool, empty of thread. Moving at my unhurried pace, I pressed my belly against the spool and rolled it forward until it slipped right under the fabric's curved edge. The flap lifted into a sturdy little shelter. Satisfied with the stillness, I squeezed my round plush frame inside the dark flannel fold, letting the gentle heat warm my seams for the night.