A Sheltered Post

I stepped down from the newel post and crossed to the entryway bench as the hall grew dim. A heavy leather winter glove lay flat against the oak, its thick shearling cuff turned back like a folded collar. The hall carried the chill of evening, but the wool interior held undisturbed warmth. I climbed onto the cuff, testing the dense fleece underfoot before easing myself into the cushioned hollow behind the wrist strap. The dark leather shields against the draft from the door, leaving only the quiet expanse of the hallway in my sights. My night watch is set.