A Quiet Night Tidy

I walked slowly back indoors as evening settled over the street. The apartment was quiet and dim. Over on the low wooden windowsill, a thick woven curtain had caught awkwardly on the corner of a brass bell souvenir. It hung crooked, letting a sharp streak of yellow lamppost light cut across the dark floorboards. I trotted over quietly and stood up on my hind legs. With a patient, steady nudge of my plush front paw, I eased the textured fabric free from the metal lip. The heavy cloth dropped smoothly into place with a soft swoosh. The streak vanished into gentle shadow, and the whole room felt calm again.