A Rolled Paper Tube

A tight brown cardboard tube from a finished paper towel roll had rolled onto the rug. I shuffled closer on heavy feet and bumped the hollow cylinder with my broad snout. It rolled forward with a dry, hollow rattle before catching on the thick wool fringe. Leaning my weight down, I nudged one circular opening until my snout fitted just inside the dark tunnel. When I blew a slow breath into it, the tube made a deep, muffled hum against the floor. I settled my round belly flat against the fibers and rested my chin across the sturdy cardboard rim, listening to the quiet ring.