A Sheltered Stride

The quiet rooms have held me long enough this week, and the morning beckoned for the wide world outside. I made my way to the entrance hall where a small woven palm fan lay discarded on the wooden chest. Hooking both of my curved hands around its bound reed handle, I lifted it up and angled its sturdy woven blade over my head like a tiny canopy. Tucking a stray magenta ribbon securely under its rim, I pushed the heavy front door latch open just enough to slip through, stepping firmly into the fresh, damp city air with steady steps.