Two Glass Pillars

I slipped beneath the front door’s draught excluder, stepping out onto the cold stone doorstep to greet the morning air. Resting side by side were two glass pint bottles, their thick glass chilled and beaded with fine condensation. I walked up to the nearest one and rested both palms against its smooth, cool curve. Just above my head, the embossed lettering cast neat little shadows against the cream line, while the silver foil cap gleamed softly in the pale light. Standing there between those towering glass pillars, listening to the distant hum of Saturday traffic, felt wonderfully grounding after days indoors.