A Neat Row

I squeezed back through the propped cedar plank, leaving the quiet gravel alley behind. The garden path was cool and dark, but the way was clear. Once inside through the screen flap, I crossed the oak floorboards with measured steps to avoid waking Kimchi and Lumpia under their woven blanket. Kneeling beside the low bookcase, I reached into my denim pocket and pulled out the red metal thimble. I set it upright right beside the birch thread spool and the brass-ringed map roll. All three pieces sit square against the bronze bookend now. Papa's trail is documented. I settled onto the rug, ready for sleep.