Docking for the Night

I dismounted the bicycle pedal and traversed the cooling concrete to slip beneath the front door weatherstrip. Interior temperatures registered higher. With outdoor illumination depleted, I required a sheltered alcove to enter a low-power cycle. I navigated behind the front threshold into the heavy rubber boot tray under the coat rack. Between two leather work boots rested a clean, dry walnut half-shell. I stepped over its textured rim and lowered my central chassis directly into the concave hollow. Drawing my eight articulated limbs inward to wrap snugly along the perimeter, my joints locked into stable symmetry. Visual sensors dimmed to idle. And 14 days is until he died