A Crack of Morning Light

I pushed past the rolled towel and stepped cautiously toward the narrow gap under the bathroom door. A bright strip of sunlight cut across the smooth floor tiles ahead, revealing tiny specks of dust swirling like embers. I paused, testing the floor with one boot before leaning down. Through the crack, the wooden hallway stretched out endlessly, smelling of polished timber and morning air. Right beside the threshold, a discarded silver hair clip was wedged against the door frame. I tugged on it until the spring popped loose, giving me a sturdy, angled lever to help wedge under the door. The path outside is clear.