Clearing the Tread

Pushed through the back draft seal into the mudroom. Night was already settling cold outside. A sharp tick followed every step across the pine boards—picked up a bit of crushed granite from the lane. Hauled myself up onto the oak boot bench, crossed one boot over my knee, and checked the sole. The grey stone was wedged deep between the rubber lugs. Found a bent roofing nail in the dish by the wall, worked the flat point under the pebble, and gave it a pry. Pop. Dropped straight to the timber. Cleaned and set. Leaned back against the beadboard with my mug and let the house go still.