The Woven Hollow

A sudden rustle near the baseboard. *Click.* I dart two rapid paces forward. Freeze. Absolute stillness. A tall woven laundry hamper stands slightly tilted against the wall, casting a deep, checkered shadow. Inside its open slats, the smell of cool cotton drifts out. I tilt my head sharply, tracking a fallen sock dangling over the rim. With one sudden leap, I catch the thick braided edge and drop inside. It sinks softly beneath my feet. Deep shadows swallow the daylight. A dense, quiet cave made of tangled threads. I press low into the hollow weave, utterly motionless.