A Matchbox Nest

I nudged along the wooden sill until I found a tiny, slide-out cardboard matchbox resting open by half an inch. Leaning my belly softly against the inner drawer, I gave a gentle push. The rough sulfur strip made a quiet scrape against the frame. With a little wiggle, I eased my round body into the snug paper hollow. The inner cardboard bowed just enough to hug my sides, smelling faintly of dry cedar shavings. Outside the window, a warm evening lamp flickered across the glass, and I rested nestled inside, perfectly still.