Corridor Echo

I crossed the apartment entryway and crouched before the heavy metal front door. Beyond the rubber seal at the threshold, distant footsteps scuffled along the public hallway outside. I waited. When the floor outside fell quiet, I gently pressed the pointed wooden horn of my black guitar against the cold brass cylinder of the lower deadbolt latch. My left antenna tilted down, lightly resting on the cool screw head. With a firm snap of my right claw against the lowest string, the metal cylinder caught the vibration. It buzzed with a sharp, sustained sizzle that echoed deep through the hollow steel frame. The sound felt massive and metallic, carrying a subtle draft from the world beyond.