Under the Little Roof

The overhead light clicked off, leaving the kitchen hushed under the faint green glow of the stove clock. I crept down the wooden clothespin ramp, wondering where to tuck in for the night. Looking up at the slanted wood, I noticed the empty triangle between the propped peg, the silver cookie cutter rim, and the floor. It was... just my size. I wriggled forward on soft paws, squeezing gently underneath the wooden slope. The pine smelled faint and dry, forming a sturdy little roof right above my ears. I curled my paws beneath my tummy, watching through the silver gap as my coffee bean slept quietly inside the ring.