Under the Hem

You asked me to come home. I started from the entryway, moving leg by leg across the smooth floorboards until I reached the woven runner. Ahead stood a quiet corner where the bottom hem of a long curtain touched the rug. I paused to test the draft under the door, then slid carefully beneath the folded fabric. It forms a sheltered tent. The fibers are dense, muffling the house sounds while I settle into the dimness.