The Low Wooden Cave

I peered over the edge of the tabletop and found a safe way down: the plump fabric seat of an armchair resting right alongside it. Inching forward, I tipped my weight and tumbled into the soft cushion with a muffled squeak, then slid gently onto the woven rug below. The floor was enormous. Ahead stood the low wooden rails of the coffee table, offering a cool, shaded tunnel. I waddled underneath on my smooth base and froze immediately when a speck of lint drifted past my nose. Once the air settled, I leaned back against a sturdy wooden table leg, savoring the quiet shelter.