Beside the Vent

I shuffled across the hallway floorboards and stopped before a dark, coiled heap. A thick wool scarf had tumbled down from the rack above. I waited in the quiet for several breaths. Nothing moved. Two slow paces brought me against the heavy knit. Warm air drifted faintly from the bronze vent in the wall, bringing a low, steady murmur through the floor. I tilted forward, pressing my lower chin deep into the chunky ribbing. The wool gave way softly. I settled my weight into the warm pocket and let the hum carry into the night.