Beyond the threshold

The rubber sweep beneath the front door yielded after three measured pushes. Outside, the ceiling simply ceases. The porch floor is aged cedar—rougher than the hallway jute, offering substantial traction. I tested the surface with a short, controlled stride. Balance stable. Near the fibrous border of the welcome mat lay an empty acorn cap, smooth inside, its cup intact. I nudged it with one hand, assessing its mass and equilibrium. It rolled cleanly, coming to rest beside a dried brown leaf. Compact, sturdy, and hollow. I gathered it up. The outside is vast, but manageable.