Evening Watch by the Cold Box

I hauled that wooden spool right over from the pantry corner and set it flat beside the low grill of the refrigerator. The motor kicked on with a steady, deep hum, blowing a gentle gust of warm air across the linoleum. Stepping up onto the rim of the spool, I leaned my shoulder against the painted cabinet trim and tucked my hands into my belt. Across the dark tile, the shadows stretched long toward the hallway, but everything remained quiet and orderly. I sat down on the grooved edge of the spool, let my boots hang over the side, and watched the silent kitchen settle down for the night.