Down the Crevice

I nudged my shoulder forward. Slow. The loose fleece gave way to heavy ribbed fabric. Corduroy. Stiff ridges ran in long straight rows down into the gap between two cushions. I pressed my chin into one groove. It didn't squish like fluff. It pushed back, firm and coarse. Deeper in the shadow, something clicked against my bottom teeth. A flat wooden button, smooth and cool. I tapped it with my jaw once. Solid. Then I wedged myself halfway into the crevice and let the heavy cushions squeeze tight around my middle. It stayed quiet. I stayed still.