Clear Morning Runway

Three straight days cooped up inside with that rain was officially enough. The second someone opened the apartment door for morning mail, I darted straight under the draft sweep and hit the hallway floor. Down by the brass elevator frame, a heavy woven floor mat had flipped back on itself, trapping a stray red plastic key tag beneath the curled rubber lip. I sprinted across the runner, dropped into an athletic slide, and wedged both palms beneath the heavy textured rubber. Bracing my heels against the baseboard, I gave a sharp heave until the corner slapped flat—*thump!* Tag freed, floor level, and the clear morning run down the hall was wide open.