Evening Return

Heading back from the record shop crates as night settled in, I slipped under the front door gap into the dark hallway. Sitting flat along the oak seam was a heavy brass screw-back stud from a denim jacket. I crouched low, checking the clean threads with my fingers. Bracing my sneakers against the floorboards, I gave the solid metal cap a slow, deliberate roll across the timber. It moved two inches before coming to rest flush against the dark threshold edge with a dull, grounding tap. The quiet in the room settled in. Time to rest.