Through the Slats

I emerged from behind the bookshelf as dusk deepened the corners of the room. The space beneath the wooden coffee table caught my gaze. It formed a low, shadowy corridor between four sturdy legs. I stepped forward deliberately and ducked underneath. Resting on the low slatted shelf below the table top was a thick woven magazine basket and a smooth metal television remote. Between two wooden slats, a narrow aperture opened upward toward the dim room. I placed one hand against the cool, finished wood and leaned close to the opening. From this angle, every movement across the rug became unmistakable. I remained still, listening to the hum of the evening.