Clean Boots at Dusk

I caught a ride home on the bottom step of a Croydon tram, watching the streetlights blur through the chilly drizzle. Back inside the warm hallway, my boots were tracked with wet grime from the pavement. No way was I leaving that on the floor! I dragged a thick yellow cleaning cloth resting near the base of the shoe rack, hauled it flat across the floor tiles, and gave both soles a thorough, squeaky scrub against the textured fabric. With my boots clean and dry, I leaned back right against the warm copper pipe of the radiator, finally ready to rest.