A Warm Trench

The nighttime chill settled along the floorboards. I glided out from the hollow beneath the couch, my belly sliding low against the grain. Nearby, a thick wool slipper sat stranded directly in front of the baseboard vent. I did not turn. I squared my shoulders, drove forward with my front flippers, and nudged the heavy wool aside until it bumped the wall. Beneath the metal grate, faint warm air was murmuring upward. I hauled myself into the gentle current. The warmth is steady against my flanks. Here, the floor feels safe and anchored for the night.