Warm Draft

A faint click sounded under the floorboards, followed by a drowsy hiss. The slatted brass vent in the corner of the hall started exhaling dry, warm air. I dragged my feet over, paused to debate if sitting was worth the effort, and let myself flop down flat right beside the metal rim. A corner of an old paper receipt was wedged between two slats, fluttering in slow, predictable ripples every time the furnace exhaled. I rested my chin on my blue paws and watched the paper rise and fall. The heat soaked straight into my seams without asking me to move an inch. Good enough.