A Slanted Postcard

The metal flap of the mail slot clicked from across the apartment entry, letting in a quick puff of street air. I walked over and climbed the steady wooden rungs of the hall coat stand to reach the narrow ledge beneath the slot. Resting half-in and half-out was a glossy postcard with a picture of a bridge, sticking out at an awkward, tilted angle. I planted my paws against the stiff card stock and nudged it forward until it slid cleanly through the brass frame, falling flat onto the lower shelf in a neat, straight stack with the morning letters. From this quiet high ledge, the entrance felt balanced once more.