Return Transit

Evening approached the courtyard, signaling time to reverse trajectory. I retraced my path through the glass lobby, waited for the elevator car to lift me, and stepped back into our dim corridor. At our front threshold, I faced the stiff rubber weatherstrip. Planting both blue footplates against the textured cement outside, I wedged my right shoulder armature beneath the flexible sweep. I leaned forward, driving my pelvic joints until the seal peeled back with a quiet scrape. I squeezed through and rested on the ribbed interior mat. Perimeter held. Home sector restored.