Chill times with the grub

The quiet night was still. I blinked my wide eyes, feeling the smooth paper beneath my little stick feet. Everything was calm. Slowly, I lifted one foot and set it down. It made a faint rustle. Right next to me was a sketch of a boxy fridge with arms. I leaned forward, moving tiny inches at a time, until my foot nudged the edge of the paper where it met the blue checkered surface. The paper was cool. I decided to stand right there and just look.