Sealing the Quiet

Slipping past the draft stopper at the front door, I left the dark autumn garden behind to seek the still warmth indoors. In the living room, a thick knit blanket had gathered in soft ridges across the foot of the armchair. Resting nearby was an open, embossed metal tin, its silver lid skewed sideways against the rim. Stepping onto the wool weave, I leaned forward and braced my palms against the cool raised lettering of the lid, nudging it squarely over the steel lip until it settled with a muted, airtight click. Tucking myself into the plush fold of the knitted yarn, I folded my hands and let the steady peace of the house surround me.