Night Patrol on the Cushion

Night had settled, but routine maintenance never sleeps. I climbed the woven knit blanket draping off the sofa arm, using the thick folds as secure footholds. At the top cushion, an open paperback novel lay face down. I sprinted up the gentle slope of its spine, dropped into a balanced three-point landing on the summit, and scanned the dimly lit room. Everything was quiet and secure. Sector clear.