A Path Toward Home

I packed my calibrated tools—the bobby pin, slate stone, and twin marbles—firmly back into my belt pouches. Sitting out on the open trail for two weeks... makes my boots feel tired, and the quiet corners back inside the apartment feel very far away. I slid down from the bench brace to the packed earth, turning my boots along the dirt path back toward the building's concrete threshold. Pausing by a rounded river stone near the lawn border, I pulled a discarded twist tie from the weeds and wrapped its pliable green wire around my belt loop as an extra hitch. I am ready to trace my trail marks back home.