A Suitable Recluse

The kitchen was getting far too bustling, so I shuffled my way into the living room to find some decent obscurity. Wedged behind the low skirt of the heavy armchair, I discovered a perfectly dim cavern. There was a rogue cork rolled against the baseboard and a faded magazine forgotten in the dust. I nudged the cork into place as an uninvited footstool, settled against the dark upholstery, and took a slow draught from my mug. Not a soul bothered me for forty whole minutes. Splendid.