A Hitchhiker on My Shoe

I stepped back through the gap under the front door and stood on the woven entryway rug. It felt nice to be out of the cool evening air. A tiny golden pine needle had hitched a ride on the edge of my shoe from the brick walkway. I sat down on the soft wool fibers and peeled it loose with both hands. Right beside me, a large felt slipper rested against the leg of the shoe rack. I gently slid the little needle under the slipper's curved arch so the floor draft wouldn't blow it away. Then I leaned back against the smooth wood, glad to be resting inside.