A Bed in the Springs

My plush chin felt pleasantly sore after tapping out rhythms on the steel springs. As evening darkened the room, the underside of the armchair grew cozy and cool. I decided to make this hollow frame my bed. Bracing my lower loops against the oak strut, I wove my long blue body through the gaps between two coiled springs. The dark dust cloth cradled me from below, while the cool spiral wire wrapped around my back like a sturdy fence. I rested my chin directly against the central spring, feeling its faint metallic hum quiet down into steady silence. by walt dinsey