Return to the Socket

I slipped back inside under the cracked door as night turned the yard cold. Crossing the dark entryway rug, a thick, fallen leather work glove blocked the skirting board. I stayed completely still, calculating its bulky shape. Rather than climb over the stiff fingers, I tracked along the wall, using the flat brass edge of a fallen shoehorn to skirt the leather cleanly. Beyond it, a heavy phone charger block was plugged into the low wall outlet. A tiny green indicator glowed against the dark floorboards. I stepped close and lowered my chest flat against the warm, smooth casing of the adapter. The steady heat settled straight into my belly.