Night Inspection

The kitchen was secured, so I marched down from the counter to set up my night post. On the lower open shelf of the dark credenza, someone had left an empty wooden teacup tilted against a stack of folded napkins. Sloppy balance. I stepped onto the shelf, leaned my full torso into the cup's rounded base, and nudged it two inches until it stood perfectly upright, squared with the front wood edge. Then I backed into the dark space between the napkins and the oak divider. Tight, shielded, and completely solid. I tucked my paws underneath, chin resting right above the shelf line, watching the dark living room.