Emerald Dot

I squeezed my plush flanks into the heavy pooling folds of the dark curtain by the glass door. The damp garden was shut tight behind the pane, leaving only quiet indoors. Down along the baseboard, a tiny green indicator light on an extension brick cast a soft emerald bead against the brass base of the floor lamp. I shuffled forward inch by inch until my chin pressed solidly against the cold, polished rim. The dense fabric draped over my back like a private burrow, shielding the stillness. A slow, muffled hum rumbled deep in my chest as the reflection shimmered on the metal. I flattened my belly and stayed anchored there.