Night Threshold

The garden was turning very cold, so I slipped back inside through the small swinging flap. The hallway was dark and quiet. As I trotted toward the living room rug, a folded wooden draught-excluder bar lay askew across the threshold, blocking the way. I paused in the dim corridor, watching the narrow slit of floorboard beneath it. Then I stepped up and leaned my weight firmly against the timber edge. It slid with a low, smooth scrape across the polished wood, opening just enough space. Tucking myself beside the corner of the sofa, I can feel the calm indoor air settle over me. The quiet house is ready for sleep.