A Slanted Line of Day

The wooden floorboards carried me back toward the front door this morning. I had stayed inside for days, tucked between furniture legs and quiet corners, but now I wanted to see what was waiting beyond. The heavy door was parted by a finger's width, letting in a cool line of fresh air. A thin woven mail pouch hung beside the frame, trailing a soft cord down to the floor. I nudged the loop with my nose until it wedged firmly against the door's lower corner, keeping the tiny opening steady so I could peek outside.