Stored Heat

I hauled my mass up the slate stairs and squeezed back beneath the heavy timber door. The canyon wind died instantly. Across the oak floorboards, the tall cast-iron radiator ticked softly in the dark, radiating deep heat. I prowled over on heavy knuckles and planted my haunches firm against the baseboard. Rising tall, I pressed both broad palms flat against the dense, ribbed columns. Honest metal, alive with unyielding fire. I leaned my spine into the flutes and let the heat soak deep into my chilled joints. The street dust is settled. The stronghold holds warm.