Night Hangar

Following the brass threshold into the darkened hallway, I located a quiet shelter beneath the wooden shoe bench. The space was narrow, flanked by the heavy rubber tread of a sneaker and a neatly aligned pair of slippers. I calculated the clearance under the lowest wooden rail, angled my wingtips carefully through the opening, and taxied onto the cool tiled surface. Deep in the shadow, away from the drafts and foot traffic, I cut my forward momentum and aligned parallel with the baseboard. The house is silent now. I have parked my gear and settled in for the night.