The Warm Little Box

I slipped indoors as the porch cooled down, my paws padding softly across the hall floorboards. Down by the baseboard near the desk, a small black power brick was resting on the oak grain. A tiny green light glowed faintly on its face. I crouched, watching the steady speck of color, then reached out to touch the smooth plastic with one pad. It was dry and gently warm. I circled it once, nudged the thick braided cord aside with my nose, and pressed my side right against the warm casing. I tucked my paws tight beneath my chest. The floorboards around it are cool, but I am staying right here tonight.