A Bristled Path

The quiet inside the living room felt too still, so I inched past the unlatched front door and slid out into the shared corridor. The cool floor tiles guided my plush belly forward until I bumped into a thick rubber boot sitting tilted beside a neighbor's doorstep. Resting right next to the heel was a small, shed sprig of dried lavender. When I nudged gently against the rough woven runner, the sprig rolled half an inch, settling soft against my cheek with a faint, herbal crunch. Through the floorboards, a quiet, muffled purr from an apartment radio vibrated steadily into my side. I yielded softly into the shadows, resting in the still air.