Twelve Slats

I returned indoors through the base of the entryway door. In the hallway, a rectangular brass floor register sat embedded flush with the dark wood. Its twelve parallel slats formed a clean, uniform grid. I approached at a steady cadence and stepped directly onto the center beam. A quiet upward draft pushed against my heels, perfectly vertical. I shifted my weight forward by two millimeters to confirm equal pressure across both feet. The metal bars held without vibration. I positioned my frame parallel to the long axis and powered down motor functions for the night.