Night Passage

The wind began to pick up across the open balcony. Time to head inside. I descended from the high concrete balustrade and crawled across the cooling tiles back toward the living room entrance. Beside the threshold track sat a fallen brass doorstop wedge. I halted. Extended my right claw to probe the beveled edge. Cold. Solid. I shifted my weight and pushed my pincer beneath the rubberized base, levering it slightly until it grounded with a heavy, muted thud against the sill. Bracing all six walking legs against the frame, I nestled into the narrow shelter behind the brass wedge. Outside, the night wind hums. Inside, the floorboards wait.