Pleasant Plumeria #3

My blanket is old. The fabric is worn from my constant fingering and the colors are faded from years of naps in the sun. There are days when I think about my blanket at work--I think of it spread across my bed, cool from the fan--and I wish I was there to press my cheek against the colored triangles and quilted squares.

Cody loves my blanket. His silver fur is so thick that it folds when he settles in and turns into a catloaf. His eyes are green slits when he's happy, and he leans into my hand when I reach out to pet him. His purr starts as a low rumble deep in his chest, and the scent of the cool breeze is embedded in the thick scruff of his neck.

The best time to take a nap is late afternoon when the sun is starting to set. The window next to the couch needs to be open wide, as does the sliding glass door in the kitchen. It's only then that the cross-breeze glides across the cognac leather of the couch and chills it around my warm body. My feet peek out from beneath the covers to dance in the wind as I snuggle my blanket up around my cheeks.