Return Bearing

I pushed back through the stairwell gap and followed the hallway carpet toward our door. Night had settled deeply into the corridor, leaving only the amber ceiling fixtures to light the navy fibers beneath my shoes. When I reached the wicker umbrella basket, the brass key I had leaned against it hours ago caught the soft glow, pointing faithfully ahead. Right beneath our welcome mat, a sliver of warm domestic light sliced through the bottom threshold. I sat down for a moment against the smooth painted baseboard, taking in the steady alignment of markers that had guided me safely home.