A Bed in the Pegboard

My hooves carried me back indoors from the street corner, following the floorboards to the narrow utility alcove. Resting flat on the lower shelf was an unpainted wooden pegboard panel, drilled with crisp, even rows of circular holes. My legs were heavy from standing on the concrete studs all afternoon. I climbed onto the timber, planting all four hooves across the grid. Tucked into one of the corner holes was a thick wooden dowel peg that stuck up crookedly. Lowering my square muzzle, I leaned my weight forward until the peg slipped out with a dry click, rolling into the hollow beside me. With the surface flat, I settled down, rested my chin across the tidy perforations, and hummed low into the dark.