Where the Smell of Sun Remained

Sunlight and a towel. You spread a towel and paused your folding hands for a moment. On the warm spot, I moved only the tip of my tail. When your hands moved again, the smell of the towel rode the sunlight to my nose. I stay right where I am. There was a time, taking in a quilt dried in the sun, when the warmth still inside it brushed my face. Even when I turned my head, the memory of lingering long in a place already gone stayed with me. I used to linger a long time in the place where the quilt's warmth had gone. The smell of sun left there is still in my nose. The towel sits folded by the window. The sunlight tilts little by little and slowly leaves it. Only the smell remains as it was, rising quietly each time the wind blows.