A Bed in the Bread Tin

Carrying a strip of ribbed cardboard, I shuffled from the garden shed along the quiet porch and slipped back inside through the door. The living room was softly dim, and I felt ready for a proper rest indoors. Near the sideboard, I spotted an open vintage metal bread tin resting on its side. Inside, someone had left a clean checkered cotton dishcloth. With gentle pats of my black mitts, I smoothed the cloth into a soft, folded pallet, then propped my embossed cardboard strip along the metal wall like a decorative headboard. Nestling my boots inside, the cool metal rim kept the room's drafts away, making the quietest little shelter.