The second blanket
That night, the house slowly drifted into silence. One by one, doors shut with soft clicks. Floorboards groaned with the last creaks of footsteps. Somewhere, someone coughed, someone else laughed faintly, and then even that faded. The fire in the living room crackled down to its embers, and the entire world seemed to exhale. I walked up the stairs quietly, my slippers brushing over the wood. The light in the hallway was dim, yellow and warm, casting soft shadows on the walls. I opened the door to my small room and stepped inside. The room greeted me like an old friend. It still smelled like cedar and old linen. The little window let in silver moonlight that spilled across the wooden floor. I left the door slightly ajar and sat down on the edge of the bed, untying the ribbon at the wais
- Writer
