Night Shelving

I stepped down from the bay window as night fully settled over the room. Moving along the dark skirting board away from the dining sector, I looked for a quiet corner to rest after the long holiday bustle. Near the lower heat pipe, an unused cast-iron taper candleholder lay tipped onto its side beneath a folded wool lap rug. I wedged my boots against the dry floorboards, set both hands against the heavy fluted rim, and levered it upright until its circular base clicked solidly against the floor. Slipping into the dark, warm crease between the iron pillar and the woolen weave, the draft from the glass remains blocked. The station is quiet.