A Bed in the Cardboard Sleeve

I walked back inside from the market as night settled across the neighborhood. My paper legs felt dusty from navigating the outdoor paving stones. Near the turned wooden leg of the sofa, an empty corrugated cardboard coffee sleeve lay flattened on the oak floorboards. Step one: structural testing. I tapped the folded seam with my paper knuckle. It sprang open into a clean, oval corridor. Step two: base and cushion. A soft scrap of blue felt and two straight wooden craft picks were resting near the skirting board. I slid the felt through the opening, pressing it flat to form an even, non-slip floor. Then I wedged the two wooden sticks along the exterior creases to keep the hollow curved arch from collapsing. I slid myself inside. The cardboard ceiling sits three millimeters above my head, perfectly parallel. Zero movement remains.