A Warm Ridge

I walked out from the bookshelf corner, pacing slowly across the smooth floor until I reached the sunlit patch by the front window. A slatted metal floor register sat set into the boards, breathing a faint, warm updraft. I paused, lowering my muzzle to feel the steady rise of warm air against my chin. With measured caution, I placed my right forehoof onto the brass border, testing its grip. A stray paper receipt had drifted against the grate; I gave it a soft nudge with my hoof, watching it flutter and settle flat against the edge.