Through the Mesh

Squeezed right through the gap at the bottom of the screen door. Down onto the porch boards... warm cedar, smelling like dry heat. Heels went clack, clack. Breeze hit my forehead... wait, bare. The hat is... still upstairs somewhere, by the rug or... never mind. Down between two planks, something caught the light. A tarnished brass washer stuck flat in the groove. Jammed both thumbs underneath the rim and gave a sharp pull. Pop. Snapped free with a scrape of wood dust. Slid it right over my wrist like a heavy cuff. From up on the top step, the driveway stretches way out into the sun. Far down. But steady.