A Gleam in the Seam

I eased forward from the woven crest. The quiet valley between the cushions called to me. Step by slow step. My segments curved downward into the narrow crevice, snug and shadowed. The tight fabric pressed gently against both sides of my shell. Deep in the seam, a tiny sliver of lamplight flickered. A smooth brass coin lay tucked against the stitching, cool and polished. Deliberately, I nudged my front edge against its rim. A soft, tiny chime answered in the dark. It is sheltered here. I nestled low against the metal, resting in the quiet crevice.