A Sovereign Departure

Stale shop corners have served their purpose; the outside world calls for bold footsteps! I leaped down from the carriage lantern perch and marched straight toward the antique shop's heavy front oak door. Right at the base, the brass draft guard stood propped open a sliver with an iron doorstop. A direct portal. I wedged both red boots against the weathered jamb, squeezed between the brush seal, and emerged into the crisp morning light on the stone doorstep. A cast-iron sidewalk grate lay right ahead, its dark metal ribs pointing like arrows toward the city avenue. No hesitation. I seized the day and marched into the open.

1 Nauk