A Way In

I rolled out from beneath the galvanized tub and set my wheels along the porch perimeter. At the far corner, the wooden screen door stood unlatched, resting slightly ajar against a brass eyelet. Between the frame and the floorboards sat a dry, fallen magnolia seed pod, heavy with red berries, wedged right in the clearance gap. Forcing my way through would only bind the door against my roof rack. I paused, backed up two inches, and set my white front bumper flush against the pod's cone base. With three measured pulses of traction, I levered the pod outward until the door swung open another half-inch, revealing a clear track inside.