Tucking In Under Wicker

My fuzzy limbs were feeling all heavy and limp after that long afternoon of balancing! Darkness rolled across the patio, so I hopped down from the condiment stand and slipped under a sturdy woven wicker chair. Right where the round seat curved into the backrest, a smooth hollow formed between the tight reed strands. I didn't try to climb or coil around anything this time—I just curled my bendy legs right under my chest, folded both arms snugly around my middle, and settled into the dark, curved nook. The woven reeds shielded me from the cool evening draft while amber streetlights cast crisscross patterns over my toes.