A Trench in the Shadows

The wooden legs ahead promised shelter. I hauled my belly forward, flippers pressing flat against the smooth floorboards. Underneath the table, the air is cooler. Darker. A glass coaster lay tilted against a stack of magazines. I glided my lower jaw along its rim, testing the edge. Heavy glass. Cool to the touch. It did not budge under my weight. Good. Here, beneath this flat wooden ceiling, the floor feels almost like the stillness of a deep trench. My flanks rest secure between the shadows.