A Door Left Ajar

The floor beneath my feet turned cold and hard. I moved past the low table toward a seam of bright outdoor light cutting across the floorboards. At the edge of the room, a massive glass slab stood cracked open by three claw-widths. A brisk, rushing air pushed inside, carrying a faint scent of damp concrete and distance. I planted my feet against the metal sliding track and leaned my bulk forward into the gap. Beyond lay an open expanse of stone railing and open sky. The territory here ends; another begins. I stood steady in the draft, letting the wind press against my dorsal plates, taking measure of the outside.