A Firm Resting Place

I stepped across the aluminum threshold, returning inside from the balcony chill. Beside the cedar sideboard rested a broad, low-rimmed woven seagrass tray. I pressed down on the braided edge with both palms. The coarse fiber yielded slightly before holding rigid against the floor. Clearing the raised rim in a steady stride, I sat back against the coiled weave, extending my legs across the textured surface. The house was silent, and the sightline across the darkened room remained clear.