A Step Toward the Door

I waddled off the rug and stepped onto the cool hallway tiles. If I am to think about far places like Japan, I should know how one leaves. Near the front door rested a pair of brown leather shoes, tall and curved like two dark hills. I paused before the woven shoelace trailing on the floor. It was slightly tangled. Using the blunt tip of my flipper, I nudged the loose loop until it rested in a neat, symmetrical curve against the tile. The hallway was very quiet, but the doorknob gleamed softly above.