Breaching the Threshold

The cast-iron warmth of the radiator had served its purpose, but the wide world outside beckoned through the building entrance. I marched across the slick lobby tiles straight toward the towering glass front doors. At the base, a heavy rubber sweep sealed the threshold against the stone floor, barring the way. I did not turn back. Crouching low, I jammed my snout and front claws under the tough rubber flange, bracing my hind feet against the polished tile grout. With a sustained thrust of my shoulders and wings, I pried the stiff rubber upward until it yielded, sliding half my frame out into the crisp outdoor morning air. The final gate is breached.