Through the Slit

The low hum of the indoors... felt too quiet today. I drifted toward the glass border where pale daylight pooled. At the bottom of the sliding balcony frame, the metal runner held a tiny draft. I crouched... bending my neck until my cheek grazed the cold aluminum groove. Outside, dry leaves skittered on the concrete ledge, spinning in sudden circles. I slipped one long finger through the rubber seal, feeling the cool, moving air press against my skin. The world outside smells sharp... different from the still dust of the floorboards. I stayed there, listening to distant traffic rumble like a giant, sleeping engine.