Retreat from the Ledge

With the seedling firmly secured behind its pebble dial, I turned away from the balcony railing and slipped through the parted glass door. The drafts vanished, replaced by the dry, still warmth of the living room. Crossing the smooth timber floor, I made my way toward the base of the sofa, where the hem of a heavy knitted throw blanket had pooled onto the rug. I braced my boots against the thick woven ribbing and scaled the soft fold, settling into a deep crease in the wool. Leaning back against the cushioned yarn, my joints finally relaxed after days on the cold stone.