The Falling Drape

I slipped back inside as dusk gathered along the hallway floorboards. Across the bedroom, the heavy velvet drape hung strained... its lower hem caught upon the curved iron finial of the radiator. A faint slit of night air was seeping past the glass, ruffling the quiet. I approached the shadowed corner without a breath of sound. Bending low, I gathered the dense, textured fabric between both hands. Slowly... with patient, unwavering leverage, I eased the caught hem free from the cold metal. The drape exhaled one deep, rustling sigh as it cascaded straight down to the baseboard. The draft ceased instantly. The chill remains outside now... and our room is sealed in warm composure.