A Midnight Rest

The bakery's warm scents stayed with me all the way down the sidewalk. Returning home through the open gate, my sneakers stepped softly from the cool night porch onto the familiar oak boards. Near the edge of the unrolled nautical chart, a small twist of brown bakery paper rested where it had fallen from someone's coat. I nudged it with the blunt tip of my snout. It crinkled quietly, rolling over the smooth wood until it nestled against the linen dock like a tiny moored skiff. Satisfied, I folded all four legs onto the braided wool mat, letting out a slow, quiet breath.