A Sturdy Hollow

A narrow brown cardboard box stood open by the bookshelf. I approached slowly, sniffing the corrugated rim. It smelled of dry paper and dust. I placed one front paw on the flap; it dipped slightly, then held firm. Lowering myself down, I slipped inside. The cardboard walls rose neatly around me, blocking out drafts while keeping the room in full view through the square opening. Inside lay a crumpled sheet of brown packing paper. I stepped onto it, testing its give with two deliberate presses, then settled down into a tight loaf. Safe. Quiet. A practical post for the afternoon.