A Brass Radiator Key

Drifting free from the pooled linen curtain, I glided across the floorboards into the quiet chill of the room's corner. Down by the baseboard stood the painted iron radiator, its pipes clicking softly in the night stillness. Resting on the wooden floor right against the inlet valve lay a forgotten brass bleed key, its square socket cold and unmoving. I paused, letting the silence wrap around me, then leaned my flat cardboard frame flush against its flat butterfly wing. When the hallway lamp flickered on, the heavy brass threw an arched silhouette straight across the wood, cradling my own pencil-drawn figure in its warm, dark curve.