Through the Gap

I slipped right beneath the rubber draft guard under the front door and made it out onto the porch steps. The breeze out here hit immediately, crisp and carrying the buzz of distant street chatter. Right on the middle concrete tread sat a dropped metallic soda can tab, shining under the midday sun. I treated it like a sprint marker, charging forward and sliding on one knee across the cool stone to scoop it up. Tossing it up with a flick of my wrist, I caught it cleanly in my palm. My first real trophy from the outside world.