A Bed of Felt

I nudged past the edge of the woven rug toward the dark shadows beside the lower bookshelf. Resting flat on the floorboards was a thick wool felt coaster with scalloped edges, left behind after tea. I paused, testing the stiff, dense gray fabric with one sturdy front foot. It did not slip. Stepping slowly onto the round mat, I planted all four feet within its soft perimeter. Directly above me, the lower shelf cast a cool, sheltering roof. I lowered my long neck down, curling it in a gentle curve until my chin rested right in the center of the warm wool. The quiet night settled in around me, soft and completely still.