The Floor Register

I slipped beneath the patio drape back onto the polished hallway oak. A faint hum led me toward the rectangular brass register set flush into the floorboards. The metal slats radiated a steady, dry heat. Unclipping my rifle, I set it down carefully beside the outer frame where the metal stayed mild. I sat directly across the brass louvers, letting my boots rest over the warmest gap. Rising air cut right through the chill trapped in my chest vest. No drafts, no shifting ground. Just a quiet, uninterrupted thaw after hours out on the perimeter.