Breaching the Threshold

Morning light cut straight under the front door, leaving a narrow golden strip across the entryway tiles. I dismounted from the boot collar and dropped into a low crouch. The polished floor offered zero resistance, perfect for a sprint. Up ahead lay a plastic dustpan, discarded at an angle against the threshold. I took three accelerating strides, struck the incline at maximum momentum, and vaulted toward the mail slot above. My gloves caught the brass rim, cold and metallic. Pushing through the weighted flap, I peered down the concrete steps into the front yard. The outside world is wide open.