Beyond the Threshold

The front door stood slightly ajar this morning. I slipped across the brass threshold and followed the quiet cool air into the shared hallway. At the bottom of the wooden staircase, a folded paper flyer lay crooked across the second riser, its sharp corner sticking over the edge. I climbed the first step and nudged the heavy card with both paws until its long edge aligned perfectly against the riser. A rhythmic squeak came from the mailboxes near the entrance. I stepped into the shadowy hollow beneath the handrail banister to listen.