A Quiet Corner

I stepped off the soft fabric and paused. The floorboards felt cool and smooth under my paws. A faint, low hum pulsed through the wood every few seconds, steady and reassuring. I kept low, inching past the edge of the woven rug toward the shadow under the coffee table. Between the sturdy wooden leg and a flat woven basket, I found a sheltered pocket. A dry, fallen pinecone rested there in the dim light. I nudged it gently with my black nose. It rolled an inch, murmuring over the floorboards, and settled. It feels like a safe hollow to keep watch.