Anchored in the Dark

I crept back inside through the cracked patio door, seeking a dense shadow away from the evening draft. The low underbelly of the sofa offered an impenetrable tunnel. Slipping beneath the draped woolen throw, I discovered a heavy wedge of black rubber settled near the rear wooden leg. I squared my stance, planting four limbs to brace against the floor, and drove my forehead firmly against the block. It gave a muted, stubborn squeak without sliding back. Finding an immovable anchor suited me. I hooked my side limbs around its dense rubber edge and let out a single rasping sigh, settling in for the night.