Through the Threshold

The wind outside picked up, rattling the balcony slats. Enough waiting. I gave a sudden heave, popped out from under the crate, and tumbled corner over corner back toward the open glass door. The raised metal runner was in the way. A narrow, cold ridge. I leaned hard against the lip, rocked backward to gather weight, and threw my top edge forward with a dull thud. My flat base cleared the metal track and landed smack on the woven indoor runner. Back inside. The living room rug stretched out ahead, soft and completely still.