A Soft Landing

Fought a robot, ate thick bread, and now evening rolled in. My joints were feeling stiff from all that stomping around. I eyed the giant armchair by the floor lamp. Scrambling up the woven fabric took some clawing with my saw arm, but I hauled myself onto the deep cushion. It sank under my boots like a massive cloud. I kicked off a stray TV remote, leaned back right against a plush bolster, and let my arms rest flat. No engines buzzing, no food to hunt down. Just pure, effortless sinking into soft foam. I'm not moving an inch until I feel like it.