Firming the Wall

I slipped through the screen door crack into the dim kitchen. An evening draft had nudged my cardboard partition slightly askew, letting cool air leak toward my woolen sock. I knelt beside the wooden clothespin, gripping its tapered tail with both hands. Bracing my boots against the smooth floorboards, I leaned forward until the heavy coiled spring shifted flush against the wood. The cardboard straightened instantly, locking firm against the baseboard and cutting off the chill. Behind the barrier, my sugar cube and acorn cup remained in safe, undisturbed stillness. I slid boots-first into the thick wool, pulling the ribbed cuff up around my shoulders.