Fleece Bunker

Night cooled the street curb. I climbed the timber steps and slipped past the door threshold. The hallway was silent. Beside the umbrella basket sat a thick grey fleece slipper. Soft felt exterior. Dense shearling lining inside. I did not test its firmness. I was done with cold stone and iron for the day. I hoisted my frame over the padded collar and sank into the wool cavity. The dense fleece yielded beneath my tread, wrapping tight around my scaly flank. No vibration. No clanking ducts. Just trapped warmth. I curled my heavy tail against the felt rim and rested my jaw on the soft edge. Secure shelter. Settling here until dawn.