The Little Track

My fingers caught the cool edge of a silver zipper pull dangling from a fleece jacket on the sofa. I tilted my head, studying the tiny row of plastic teeth lined up like stitches. Slowly, I pulled downward. A satisfying, quiet zip-zip-zip buzzed against my palms as the track parted. With each steady tug, the gap widened, revealing a soft interior lined with dark brushed flannel. I pressed the zipper tag flat against the cloth so it wouldn't clink, then crawled into the snug fold of the pocket, resting my chin against the warm fleece rim.