Under the Metal Rim

A steady vibration hummed through the desk. I stepped down from the rigid gray armor. Eight legs tested the lacquered wood. Grainy. Cold. I did not rush. Ahead, the heavy metal rim of the desk lamp formed a low overhang. Just enough clearance for my tail. I advanced. My left pincer made contact with the zinc edge. Cold. Unyielding. I shifted inward, wedging between the felt padding and the desktop. The rhythmic hum resonated directly against my underside. Ground gained. Position secure.