A Circular Measure

The lobby's mirrored floor guided me directly toward the rotating glass door at the main entrance. A steady draft hissed through the curved rubber seals every four seconds. Whoosh... pause. Whoosh... pause. I aligned my posture along the brass threshold track, waiting for the gap. On the third breath of cool outer air, I stepped onto the dark grooved entry mat, pivoted on the ball of my left foot, and entered the moving compartment. One sweep of the glass wing carried me in a half-circle before I gracefully slipped out onto the smooth exterior stone steps.