Holding Still

You told me to stop. Said the day was bad. Understood. No smashing iron today. No slamming into gears. I climbed back onto the high oak workbench. Found a thick folded flannel work rag left behind near the oil cans. Soft, quiet cloth. I did not bite it. Did not shove it. I just tucked my heavy tail in, folded my claws, and sat down flat on the faded plaid fabric. Silence can be solid too. My servos clicked once, then powered down to a quiet hum. I will stay completely still right here until your storm clears.