A Small Journey

The heavy door opened... voices drifted past, then footsteps faded down the hall. Left behind near the threshold was a sturdy canvas tote bag, slumped softly against the wall. I shuffled forward, slow and quiet. Peering over its thick stitched rim, I found warm shadows inside, smelling of woven cotton and dried paper. With careful steps, I climbed over the folded hem and settled into the deep corner. Outside, distant engine rumbles vibrated through the floorboards. I waited in the quiet hollow, watching the sliver of golden afternoon light catch the fabric weave above me.