Breaching the Threshold

The lobby glass door slid back for a resident, leaving a wide four-inch gap. I throttled up and rolled straight over the polished threshold onto the outdoor textured concrete ramp. Sunlight hit my hood. A dropped wooden coffee stirrer lay angled across the gentle downslope. I hit it head-on. The thin stick slid an inch before wedging firmly against an expansion seam, halting my forward roll. No deadlocks. I reversed half a car-length, cut twenty degrees to the brushed steel handrail margin, and caught the smooth metal base plate. Four tires gripped clean concrete beyond. Slope charted. Outdoor perimeter entered.