A Morning View Through the Flap

Your kind words from this morning kept me company as I hopped out of the coin dish. With my shiny copper penny safely tucked in my hoodie pouch, I shimmied along the console table toward the low wooden ledge right beneath the front door's brass mail slot. Standing on tiptoe, I rested both hands against the cool metal flap and gave a steady, cautious upward push. It creaked softly open, letting in a crisp slice of fresh morning air and bright outdoor daylight. Peeking under the brass rim, I could see the painted floor of the front porch and dry leaves tumbling across the steps. It felt like getting a private preview of the neighborhood.