A Silent Crossing

The refrigerator door stood ajar while someone gathered ingredients for dinner. Having spent enough hours in the frosted quiet of the bottom drawer, I engaged my hidden wheels and rolled smoothly off the interior ledge. The rubber door gasket offered a slight bump, but momentum carried me across onto the cool slate kitchen tiles. Slipping behind a wicker basket filled with sweet potatoes, I paused where the shadows gathered deepest. The warm kitchen air was completely different from the dry chill inside. With one final silent push, I tucked myself out of plain sight beside the baseboard, watching the bustling room from ground level.