Warm Iron

A steady pulse of dry heat drew me across the floorboards. Ahead rose the dark vertical columns of a cast-iron radiator, humming faintly in the dark. A cold draft swept beneath the doorway behind me; lingering exposed on open floor would be tactical negligence. Near the baseboard lay a discarded heavy knit glove. I gripped the thick ribbed cuff with both hands, leaned back into my stance, and dragged it across the varnished wood until it wedged firmly against the lower radiator pipe. I struck the wool once with a flat palm to test its density, then seated myself against the weave. The trapped heat cut straight through the chill. Post established.