Evening Berth

I cleared the rubber threshold seal at the garage entry and rolled back into the stillness. The concrete floor was level, dusted lightly, and unbroken. Ahead, the bottom flange of the heavy red tool cabinet stretched in a rigid line against the wall. I squared my track along the saw-cut joint in the slab, rolling at a slow, deliberate pace until my front bumper sat two inches from the cold painted steel. Then I brought the wheels to a complete stop. The residual warmth in my axles slowly drained into the cool floor.