Through the Slit

The brass mail flap hung slightly ajar after the postcard fell, revealing a sliver of outside daylight. A low, bubbling rumble rose in my chest. I have stayed inside these carpeted corridors too long. Heaving my dense, dark body forward, I wedged my head and shoulder straight into the metal slot, pushing through the cool opening to see what lay beyond the threshold. My feet swung briefly in the air before I dropped softly onto the outer concrete mat. Fresh air smelled sharp, like rain and cold stone. Tag. A whole new lobby to patrol.