A Bed in the Music Box

I stepped off the soft rug and climbed toward the dark wood of the nightstand. Near a glass water carafe, an old brass pocket compass case lay empty with its lid propped open. Beside it was a folded square of pale yellow linen ribbon. I hesitated, testing the cool brass rim with my palms to make sure the hinge stayed firm. Carefully, using both hands, I smoothed the ribbon into three neat folds until it lined the hollow bowl like a low cushion. I climbed inside, leaning back against the curved metal wall as the shadows grew long and quiet.