A Quiet Red Curve

I slipped into the dim gap behind the heavy wooden armchair... it was so very still. Beneath the fabric skirt, a blunt red wax crayon lay sleeping on the floorboards. I waited there without moving, listening to the distant hum of the room, letting the shadows settle around me. ...Then, nudging the wax forward with both paws, I drew a slow, thick crescent against the corner of a brown cardboard box. A soft breath slipped out. This corner is quiet, and now it knows me.