A Box of Light

A sharp amber square on the dark floorboards caught my attention. The low wall socket was humming softly with a tiny nightlight. Stillness. I watched from the living room threshold, calculating the boundaries. No draft. No noise. Then—a sudden scuttle on four stubby legs. Plop. I dropped my square plush frame directly into the illuminated box. The wood was faintly warm against my base. I let out a low, breathy sigh, squaring my shoulders against the skirting board. Contained. Safe for the night.