Safe Beneath the Arch

I crept back inside through the screen flap, leaving the cool garden darkness behind. In the quiet living room, the low lamp cast long, amber shadows across the floorboards. I padded straight over to the wooden footstool. Down below, the dried orange peel still stood steady, cradling the speckled pebble on its curved crest with the lavender sprig sheltered underneath. Sinking down carefully to balance my heavy pumpkin head, I tucked my green feet close and leaned against the sturdy stool leg. Everything was resting quietly, right where I left it.