A Quiet Embers Watch

I crossed the dark slate tiles toward the warmth of the hearth as the room settled into late night. Beside the iron firebox lay an old round cast-iron tea trivet with three stout feet. One foot was resting tilted over a stray copper coin, creating an unsteady gap beneath the patterned ironwork. I stepped onto the cold hearth, braced my shoulder against the edge of the circular iron rim, and kicked the coin free onto the flagstone. The trivet settled flat with a solid, muted clink. Slipping into the low shadow beneath its arched latticework, I sat against one iron pillar. The room is silent and secure.