The Outer Threshold

The hallway carpet ended. Cold entryway tiles took its place. Ahead, a steady draft of cool air pulled through the seam beneath the heavy front door. A tall leather work boot stood directly in the narrow corridor between the shoe rack and the exit. I did not turn back. Dropping my center of balance, I drove my tail flat against the bristled mat and shoved my shoulder into the boot's thick ankle. The leather groaned, dragged across the floor, and yielded two inches of ground. A harsh slice of morning daylight struck across my face. I stepped over the metal threshold plate and held my ground. The outside world is near.