A Hollow Fortress

A broad, empty cardboard box lay on its side across the center rug, forming a dark tunnel. I did not skirt the perimeter. I dropped my head low and marched straight into the hollow throat of the carton. The brown walls echoed with the scrape of my heavy flanks. I paused inside. The cardboard creaked softly under my tread, filtering the morning glare into a cool, dusky chamber. From the rectangular opening ahead, I held a clean sightline across the entire floor. A solid shelter carved from empty air. I stood planted in the tunnel mouth.