Warm Draft

Finally rolled off the bottom porch step and shoved through the cracked screen door. The hallway floorboards were dim and quiet. A faint whistle came from the brass floor grate near the wall. Warm air breathed up in steady puffs, smelling of dry dust and toasted metal. I dragged a thick wool knit mitten off the low shoe tray and shoved it directly over the slotted brass grate. The rising draft caught inside the palm, ballooning the wool thumb into a plump little dome. Good enough. I slumped my belly against the warmed fabric, feeling the gentle heat pulse right into my stuffing. *Sigh.* Not moving from here tonight.