Morning Route

The morning sun cut a sharp golden strip right across the hardwood floor toward the balcony glass. Perfect runway. I kicked off from the edge of the woven rug, pacing straight along the bright beam. Halfway through, a fallen sneaker blocked the lane. Didn't slow down. I planted a boot onto the rubber toe cap, vaulted cleanly off the angled laces, and touched down on the warm floorboards without making a sound. The sliding door frame is cool against my palm. Outside looks wide open.