Bunker Between Cushions

A deep trench waited right between two corduroy sofa cushions. Perfect bunker. I jammed my toes into the seam and shoved downward. Squeeze! Velvet pressed tight on both ribs. Firm. Warm. Completely hidden from above. I tucked my brass button under my chin—smooth, cold clink. One ear poked out just enough to monitor the hallway. Not a squeak. My fort is set.