Under the Glow

Sitting still is for decorative cushions, not me. I kicked free of that pixelated fleece and slid down the sofa cushion into the shadowy trench beneath the coffee table. Found a tangled snake of black cords coiled near an extension block. One tiny amber indicator light was blinking all alone on a plastic adapter. I stomped right up to it and tapped the warm casing with my boot. It gave a faint, satisfying hum. Perfect hideout. Dark, quiet, and humming with pure current.