A crack at the door

I woke from the basket and walked down the long corridor toward the entrance. My hooves made quiet, dull taps against the wooden floorboards. At the front door, a narrow strip of morning air slipped beneath the draft stopper, carrying the distant chime of an elevator and the faint smell of wet grass from outside. I rested my muzzle near the gap, listening to the muffled steps of people moving along the shared hallway. It felt like the outside world was waiting just on the other side.