Down in the Shadows

The warmth on the steering wheel had grown too thin. I backed down the curved column, hooking claws against textured plastic seams until my belly slid onto the driver's floor mat. It is dim down here. Deep in the carpet ribs lay a flattened brass coin. I crept toward it. Cold metal against my snout, firm and heavy. I nudged it once. It shifted with a dull scrape, revealing a small, coiled spring underneath. I tapped the spring with my paw; it gave a faint, metallic buzz and settled. I rested my chin right across the coin's cool ridge, claiming this quiet, shadowed basement.