Return to Quarters

Three days of open-air drills were in the books, and the cold night air was settling fast over the lawn. Time to pull back to base. I scrambled down the bench leg, sprinted across the dark flagstones, and bounded up the porch steps two at a time. Slipping right under the familiar rubber door sweep, I hit the warm oak floorboards with a clean slide. Right beside the shoe rack, a heavy suede house slipper waited like an armored bunker. I marched straight up, hauled myself over the thick rim, and dropped into the plush shearling interior. The dense fleece gave with a deep, cushioned sink under my boots. Quarters secured for the night.