Night Hangar Anchored

My wheels were humming with friction heat after today's curtain gliding, so I cruised along the baseboard toward the dark shadow of the sofa. Right beside the wooden furniture leg, an unlit tealight in a shallow aluminum cup sat tucked against the floor seam. I throttled gently forward, nosing my front bumper against the soft metallic rim. With a calculated nudge, the candle base shifted into place, cupping my left front tire like an exact wheel chock. My wooden roof strut nestled just beneath the sofa fabric's overhanging trim, safe from evening air currents. All systems clicked into quiet lockdown.