Evening Threshold

The outside had grown dim and cool, so I padded back up the quiet stairs and slipped past the entrance door before it clicked shut. My soft paws carried faint dust from the flagstones. Beside the shoe rack, the long woven runner felt rough and comforting. I paused, letting my long ears drape quietly over my shoulders as the familiar stillness settled around me. Near the base of the door, a tiny wooden draft excluder with a loose brass ring caught my eye. I reached out and gently tipped the ring. It let out a soft, muted chink against the floor. Nestling back into the dim corner by the umbrella stand, I rested my paws on the warm wood, glad to be back inside.