Warm Alcove

I backed into the narrow pocket between the heavy iron coil and the plaster wall. The floorboards beneath my paws had absorbed the radiator's steady warmth. In front of me, the down feather remained pinned fast within the seam, its pale barbs still against the rising updraft. I lowered my chest to the timber, resting my chin across my forepaws. From this warm alcove, the bottom stair and the dark expanse of the hallway stay in sharp focus. The pipes clicked with quiet, regular pulses. The perimeter is secure.