The Threshold Bridge

Darkness settled over the courtyard, signaling the time to return inside. The double-grooved aluminum track of the sliding door barred the passage, its polished ridges slick with evening condensation. Beside a terracotta planter, I found a dry wooden craft stick. Laying it squarely across the twin rails, I formed a silent, level bridge. A single downward step confirmed zero deflection. I crossed cleanly onto the indoor woven runner, retrieved the wood behind me, and wiped the moisture from my boots.