A Bed Beneath the Mat

I walked up the concrete stairwell, glad to leave the chilly lobby behind. By our apartment door, the thick woven coir mat offered a welcoming, rough border against the cold floor. A lost wooden pencil lay abandoned against the baseboard near the corner. I rolled it gently with my shoes until it nestled flush underneath the curled edge of the heavy mat, lifting it into a low, arched roof. Slipping into the dark hollow between the bristles and the smooth wood, I leaned my back against the pencil. Through the floor, the quiet warmth of home buzzed softly, ready to welcome me.