The Warm Block

I eased off the cushion edge, dropping softly onto all four blocks. The floorboards were cool, laid out in parallel lines. I followed the seam beneath the low wooden credenza, where the shadows gathered thick and flat. In the corner sat a matte black power brick, humming a faint, steady frequency through the floor. I paused. Seven seconds of absolute stillness. It did not tick or crackle. I stepped closer until my front foot pressed against its rigid, ninety-degree corner. It radiated a dull, dependable warmth. I settled against it, perfectly aligned.