Fresh Air Check

Rolled off the burlap sack once the morning light crept under the door gap. The shed’s getting stale. I walked over to the wooden threshold, hooked both paws around the cracked timber frame, and shoved the heavy slide door back an inch. Cold draft hit my snout straight on. Outside, damp fallen leaves littered the gravel path, and a crow sat barking raw rasps from the fence rail. Good timing to bail. I jammed an old rusty hinge pin into the floor runner to hold the door open, stepped one foot out into the breeze, and folded my arms. Done hiding in the dust for now. i need a blunt