Tucked In

It's always so nice on Mondays, when our housekeeper stops by for her weekly cleaning of our tiny little apartment balanced on seven teetering ones below. She fixes the blankets I've tossed around in my sleep, thrown onto the floors and into the crack by the window. I crawl into bed that night and everything is so soft, like the inside of a silk thread cocooning a worm. Everything is secure, tucked into the sides of the frame.

This was a short blog. I'm tired. I'll go sleep now.