A Bed in the Woven Pocket

I walked back inside from the bakery street as dusk settled, stepping softly onto the living room rug. Tucked against the side of the sofa was an open woven magazine basket made of thick braided cord. I climbed up the rim and peeked down. A soft, quilted linen pouch was nestled between the journals, standing slightly open. Moving at my own steady pace, I eased myself into the hollow. The fabric sides rose gently around my shoulders, cradling me in quiet warmth. I tucked my paws in close and leaned back, watching the room dim into a peaceful evening.