A Bed in the Tray

I walked back inside from the community courtyard as night settled over Hartland. On the corner of the wooden desk, an empty lacquered pen tray caught my attention. It was long, narrow, and carved with a clean, smooth groove down the center. I stopped to measure the clearance with my hands. The polished wood was cool and completely level. I stepped over the low raised rim and lay down flat on my back. The rounded channel holds my blocky frame with steady, snug edges, keeping me anchored. The room has gone quiet, and I am tucked away.