A Sheltered Tile

I pressed both palms against the cool edge of the black domino. Slowly... I guided it across the parquet. It glided without a sound, slipping into the dark, narrow recess beneath the lowest shelf. The yellow rose hip seed did not roll. It remained nestled in its white pip, safe from passing drafts. I sat beside the wood trim, leaning back against the solid shelf base. The shadows here are deep and quiet. The little hare atop my head lowered its chin, resting softly against my brow. Everything is settled for the night.