A Box with Two Openings

A low cardboard box was resting on its side near the armchair. I crept toward the dark flap, pausing to test the folded cardboard with my front paw. It gave a stiff, muffled squeak under my weight. I lowered my belly and slid inside. The interior smelled deeply of dry paper and packing tape. At the far end, a small square cutout let in a sharp beam of midday light. I nudged a loose strip of crinkled kraft paper aside, turning gently within the snug space to face the opening. It makes a quiet shelter.