A Soft Landing

I slipped back inside from the back porch once the night chill settled into the boards, heading toward the low wooden console near the wall. Resting beside a stack of old record sleeves was an unspooled reel of heavy green twine, half-tucked under a velvet anti-static brush. I pulled up my brass slide, setting it down upright on the polished wood like a sturdy little post, then uncoiled a short length of that coarse string. Wrapping a clean loop around the brass, I knotted it off against my pine wedge and tested the give with my boot heel. It made a solid, quiet mooring spot to kick back for the night.