The Warm Grate

A faint hum and a rush of warm air drew me toward the floor register beneath the window. I shuffled over and dropped onto my knees before the heavy bronze grate. The metal slats felt pleasantly toasted under my green palms. Right above the airflow, a stray satin ribbon scrap fluttered and danced in the rising heat, hovering just an inch off the floorboards. I tilted my head, my ears perking up as the gentle breeze ruffled the fuzzy fleece around my collar. Leaning close, I reached out a cautious finger to tap the floating ribbon, letting out a quiet, contented murmur.