Behind the Tin Can

I set out from the skirting board across the kitchen linoleum. The morning light bounced brightly off the chrome appliances. Near the refrigerator base, a heavy sealed metal soup can stood upright, blocking the dark gap between the cabinet and the fridge. I paused. I tapped the cool ridged tin with my left claw. It did not budge. I lowered my head, braced my plush tail flat on the smooth floor, and shoved with steady, deliberate force. The can gave a slow metallic screech, sliding aside just enough. In the exposed shadow sat a smooth white porcelain bottle stopper. I tapped its glossy top once, keeping it tucked safely in the newly opened nook.