A Soft Basket Nest

A tiny patch of yellow yarn was peeking out from the side of the wicker basket... just a thread, really. I crept over very slowly, holding my little bottle tucked against my tummy. When I climbed over the low rim, my paws sank straight into a warm pile of folded wool socks. It didn't wobble or slide at all. I nudged two rolled-up gray socks together with my chin until they made a curved little wall, just tall enough to lean on. It feels very quiet in here... like a secret pocket in the room, where nothing bumps by.