A Soft Landing

Someone lifted the cardboard package from the ledge. My crinkly brown paper nest disappeared instantly. Gravity handled the rest. I dropped about eight inches into the dark space beneath the shelf, landing flat on a forgotten winter glove. It was thick fleece, neatly insulated, and completely still. Above my head, footsteps thudded across the lobby floorboards, vibrating gently right through the wood. A dull, rhythmic scuff. Then the heavy outside door clicked shut. Silence returned. I adjusted myself half an inch to the left so the fleece lined up with my torso. An efficient outcome.