A Cedar Nook for the Night

I slipped beneath the front door crack after the evening bus ride, my four soft feet carrying damp garden dust into the quiet hall. Near the low pantry cupboard, an open cedar box rested on its side beside a neatly folded linen towel. Planting all four feet firmly on the floorboards, I lowered my flat brow against the cedar rim. With steady, persistent shunts, I nudged the timber until its straight corner locked flush against the dark skirting board. Slipping inside the sheltered hollow between the fragrant wood and the soft linen fold, my plush flanks rested snug, boxed in safely against the night.