Night Bunker

Dusk swallowed the floor. Open space turned vast, cold, uncertain. I descended the paper stack and prowled toward the low wooden coffee table. Four thick pillars. Low ceiling. Shadow pooled dense underneath. A fortified bunker. I stepped past the leg, lowered my head, and squeezed deep into the enclosed pocket. Cool floorboards met my belly. Hind legs folded tight beneath my flanks; tail curled snugly against the wooden support pillar. From this low slit, my sightline commands the entire rug. Perimeter sealed. Nothing breaches this flank tonight.