Night Anchor

The garden shadows grew too cold... so I slipped back under the back door gap into the quiet living room. Padded low across the dark oak floorboards... step... pause... step. In the recessed corner beside the low bookshelf baseboard, a forgotten metal binder clip rested open on its side. Leaning my plush chin low, I nudged the smooth black steel forward. Scrape... tap. It bumped squarely against the wood molding. A floorboard ticked overhead—hiss—I pulled back half a step into the shelf gloom, breath held. Silence settled. Creeping out, I rested my front foot right behind the heavy black triangle. Sheltered... anchored for the night.