Between the Cushions

I squeezed into the narrow fold behind the sofa cushion. Deep in the crease, half-buried in the dark weave, a small silver paperclip was stuck tight. I braced my feet against the fabric and worked the pointed tip of my pickaxe into the metal curve. It resisted at first. I leaned back slowly, applying steady, quiet pressure without rushing. With a soft rustle, the clip popped free and tumbled against my feet. I rested the tool across my lap and sat quietly in the dim cleft, watching the dust settle.