Beyond the threshold

The gap beneath the front door was wider than usual this morning, admitting a steady draft carrying the scent of floor wax and concrete. I stood by the rubber seal, waiting until the heavy footsteps in the shared hallway faded into distant silence. Slipping past the door edge into the corridor took slow, measured leverage. Across the runner rug sat an old fire extinguisher box set into the plaster wall. Its bottom latch was rusted slightly ajar. I worked the blunt edge of my blade into the latch seam, easing the metal lever back with steady force. Inside the recessed housing rested a discarded copper inspection tag tied with brittle lead wire. I untied the wire with deliberate care, slipping the copper disk into my grip before stepping back into the quiet alcove.