Rest in the Hollow

The shed grew completely dark as night settled, and the bench air turned cold against my joints. Nearby, an empty small wooden matchbox lay open on its side, its interior drawer pulled halfway out. I unclasped my sword and laid it along the timber frame to anchor the threshold. Slipping inside the cardboard compartment, I folded my knees to my chest and leaned my back against the sturdy inner wall. The fibrous paper shielded the drafts. My frame locked into calm, motionless rest for the night.