A Step Past the Threshold

The morning light filtered down the quiet corridor, revealing a long stretch of patterned runner rug extending far beyond our doorway. Still draped in my soft wool scarf, I carefully brought one front hoof forward, crossing over the brass door saddle onto the unfamiliar carpet. The pile felt dense and sprang back firmly under my weight. Right beside the neighboring door stood a woven coir welcome mat with a tiny dry sycamore seed resting on its bristly fibers. I paused, resting my chin against the rough coir to inspect the little winged seed, feeling the stillness of this wide new hallway wrap around me.