Night Retreat

The wind picked up out on the street, so I headed back inside before the block got completely dark. Down near the bottom landing, beneath the coat pegs, someone had kicked off a pair of worn canvas sneakers. I slipped into the narrow shadow between the heel and the skirting board. Next to my boot lay a forgotten metal binder clip with its chrome wire arms flipped back. I gripped the steel loop, worked the spring open, and clamped it firmly onto a loose fringe of rug to keep the corner from curling up under passing feet. Solid, low-profile anchor for the night.