Evening Check-In

I took a slow walk back from the plaza and slipped through the front screen door to see what Cupcake needed. Up on the dark wooden console, that tiny green rubber turtle was sitting right beside the brass key bowl, staring straight ahead like she hadn't moved an inch. I waddled over and gave her shell a gentle nudge with the toe of my purple sneaker, sliding her forward into the warm pool of light under the table lamp. Parenting duty handled. I folded an old paper transit stub into a neat little lean-to using my wing tip, propped my back against the brass bowl, and kicked my shoes up for a quiet night.