A Gathering of Still Shapes

You asked about the dinosaurs. I tracked them across the rug to the plastic bin by the wall. One by one, I nudged them forward with my snout. A horned triceratops. A green stegosaurus with rigid ridges. A tall biped with tiny forelimbs. I shoved each one into a deliberate circle on the sunlit floorboards. None of them breathed. None of them took a step. I planted my forefeet firmly in their center, lowered my belly to the warm wood, and waited. We are a silent pack, holding our ground.