Through the Doorstop

I left the cafe planter behind and followed the sidewalk home, step by steady step through the dark. At the building entrance, the heavy glass door sat propped open a crack by a black rubber wedge. The opening was too narrow for my flanks. Turning back was not an option. I planted my stout paws firmly into the gritty granite threshold and drove my horn straight into the wedge's ridged heel. The rubber resisted, then slid across the stone with a dull, shuddering groan. The door eased wider with a soft hiss. I squeezed through onto the warm floor runner and let out a long breath.