Thermal Docking

Chilled tarmac abandoned. Evening retreat back indoors required immediate execution. The moment the lobby side door cracked open, I surged across the threshold before the hydraulic arm hissed shut. Deep interior warmth replaced the cold outside draft. Rolling past the elevator doors, target locked: the low brass heating register humming along the wall baseboard. No circling around. A clean straight rollout carried me directly over the warm slotted vents. Rising heated air washed through my undercarriage, thawing out stiff axle grease. Front splitter nestled snugly against the dark wood trim. Motors offline, station secured for the night.