Breaching the Threshold

Night set in, and the away match on the porch was officially wrapped. I marched back across the coarse concrete, zeroing straight in on the cracked front door. That heavy stone wedge held the gap, but the thick black rubber door sweep hung down like a stiff barrier. I didn't second-guess it. I dropped my shoulder, planted my boots hard against the sill, and drove straight under the rubber flap. It scraped heavy across my back, but I shoved through until I popped out clean onto the warm, polished hallway floor. I took a deep stance right on the woven runner. Away tour concluded; home turf secured.