Nighttime Safe Return

My boots were dusty from the gravel, and the courtyard air had turned freezing cold. Squeezing back under that stiff front door brush, I finally pulled both feet through into the quiet, warm entryway. Right on the edge of the woven coir welcome mat sat a forgotten clean wooden clothespin. I dropped onto one knee on the polished floorboards, gripped the smooth spring pin with both hands, and clamped it firmly onto the hem of my dark cargo trousers to shake out the garden sand. Leaning my back flat against the solid timber baseboard, I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. Base is secure, and it feels amazing to be home.