A Gentle Slide to Daylight

A cool draft of morning air crept through the propped fire door at the back of the sorting room. I tilted my weight sideways and glided across the slick linoleum toward the open gap. Right on the wide brushed-aluminum sill, a heavy brass key on a split ring lay flat. My snout nudged the cold metal edge. It slid forward with a muffled chime, dropping neatly into the groove of the weatherstrip. Beyond it, the ribbed rubber ramp of the loading bay sloped gently down toward the quiet morning sun. I let gravity carry my belly onto the firm rubber ribs, sliding to a slow halt right against the doorframe, resting my chin flat against the chilled metal sill.