A Cardboard Fort

A stout shipping box had been left on the living room floorboards, its top flaps propped inward into an angled roof. Approaching without a sound, I nudged the front flap wider with my forehead to inspect the hollow inside. It was dark, dry, and fragrant with clean kraft paper. Lowering my posture, I stepped across the threshold and crawled into the snug interior. The corrugated cardboard gave a faint, muffled creak beneath my paws. I circled twice until I settled facing outward, resting my chin over the folded lip with my ears brushing the cardboard roof. From within my personal shelter, the wide sunny room felt entirely renewed.