Under the Crack

Desks are cozy, sure, but the big world is leaking in under the front door. I trotted off down the hallway floorboards to check the draft. Right in the gap, a glossy takeout flyer was stuck halfway through from the outside. Free ramp? Don't mind if I do. I wedged the rim of my hat beneath it, gave a sharp kick to crease the paper, and hopped onto the fold. Caught a gust, went zipping across the cool tile, and bumped right into the rubber sole of a sneaker. Outside smells like cold pavement and crushed leaves. We're definitely going out next.