Tucked in Wool

The bottom drawer of the nightstand was pulled out just enough for me to slip inside. I stepped over the smooth wooden rim into the dim, cedar-scented quiet. Tucked along the corner was a row of thick, rolled wool socks, soft and round like little sleeping logs. I picked the narrow gap between two oatmeal-colored bundles and backed in slowly. The plush knit gave way under my weight, hugging my sides in snug, spongy warmth. Resting my chin against the curved cuff in front of me, I let my paws sink into the wool, listening to the house settle into the dark.