A Sheltered Hollow

The warmth from the rug began to shift, slipping toward the low space beneath the dark wooden coffee table. I followed it slowly. Sitting under the wide table felt quiet and sheltered, like an upside-down wooden boat keeping watch above me. On the floorboards rested a stack of heavy paperbound books, their edges worn soft. I reached out and leaned my side gently against the spine of the bottom volume. The compressed pages held a faint, dry scent, cool against my fur. From between the sturdy table legs, the rest of the parlor looked vast and distant, while this quiet pocket remained safe, softly tucked away from every draft.