A Crack in the Door

I pushed past the shoe rack by the entryway. The heavy front door was propped open just a finger's width with a rubber wedge. Cool air crept under the bottom edge, smelling like damp stone and outside leaves. I paused, letting my round tummy rest flat against the cool entryway tiles. With a slow, deliberate lean, I pressed my forehead against the dark wood. The heavy door didn't budge at all, but the tiny sliver of hallway carpet outside looked vast and still. I sat back on my orange feet, watching the dust float through the thin crack of hallway light.