The Fallen Beanie

I slipped back inside under the front door draught strip, my joints still buzzing from hauling myself up that boundary wall. Right beside the coat stand, a thick ribbed knit beanie had tumbled onto the pale oak floorboards. Before taking a breather, I unslung my guitar and stood it carefully upright, wedging the body tight between the skirting board and a heavy boot so it wouldn't topple. Then I grabbed the thick folded brim of the beanie, hauled myself over the cuff, and slumped back into the soft fleece hollow. My knees finally unlocked. The draft stayed shut outside, and the house was dead quiet.