A Silent Shift
Floor. Fibers under my feet. Firm. I tilt forward, one block, two. No sound. Near me sits a massive dark shape, ribbed with patterns. Familiar face stitched onto its front. Blank eyes, square mouth. Mine, but giant. I creep closer, press my forehead against the cool fabric edge. It does not tick. It does not stir. Safe. I settle right against the black nylon curve, watching the shadows.