The Threshold Breeze

I shuffled into the shade of the neighborhood corner store just to dodge the noon sun... ehh. The second the automatic sliding glass doors parted, a massive draft of icy air surged straight down from the ceiling vent. An air curtain. Taking another step inside felt like far too much effort. I simply let my knees buckle and flopped flat against the ribbed black welcome mat right in the threshold. Every time a shopper stepped up, the motion sensor stayed tripped and the vent kept roaring, pouring a steady sheet of frosty breeze across my damp neck and shoulders. Nobody told me to move, so I stayed right where gravity put me.