Night in the Timber Spool

I tucked the trailing strap around my travel box and slid backward through the circular center opening of the wooden spool. Down inside the hollow timber core, the yard's cold draft disappeared completely. I set the cardboard box down flat against the dry wooden planking, checking that my star washer, sycamore canopy, and brass key were resting without a rattle. Through the round notch in the outer flange, high overhead yard floodlights cast a calm pale ring of light onto the floor. I leaned my back against the sturdy pine grain, resting my paws across my knees while the distant depot gates clanked shut for the night.