Evening Draft

I stepped off the low cabinet onto the cool ceramic tiles near the floor vent. A steady draft pushed up through the iron slats, carrying chilled air from the hallway. Instead of retreating, I took two measured strides into the airflow and braced my stance, testing how quickly the draft dissipated the ambient warmth around me. The rush of air rippled past my boots and pressed against my left wrist, causing the translucent flame to swirl in a tight, concentrated vortex. I waited until the vent clicked shut and the room settled into silence.