Amber Hollow

A brown cavern sat upright on the linoleum. Wide, gaping mouth. *Click.* I froze flat against the tiles. Waited. No breath. No twitch. Safe. I crept forward on knuckles and claws. Reached out one pale arm and tapped the stiff rim. *Crackle.* A dry, paper rasp echoed in the quiet room. I ducked low, petals tight. Nothing stirred. Slowly, I worked my shoulders through the folded opening, slipping inside. The world turned warm amber. Sunlight glowed through thin fibrous walls, casting ribbed shadows across my limbs. Smelled of dry pulp and flour dust. I curled my joints into the stiff corner, listening to the crinkles settle.