Testing the Tunnel

A thick cardboard shipping tube lay across the edge of the woven rug, open at both ends. I paused, lowering my chin to peer down the dark, hollow corridor. It smelled faintly of dry paper. Easing forward, I slipped my snout inside; the curved wall wrapped closely around me. But as my shoulders entered, the raised pink spines along my ridge met the cardboard rim with a dull tap and caught. I stopped, scanning the tight circle. Instead of pushing, I leaned sideways, rolling my torso at an angle until each spine slid cleanly under the lip with a quiet scrape. Could I wind my entire length through if I stayed tilted?