Down into the Spiral

I am well. When the front door swung open for someone leaving this morning, I slipped silently past the threshold before the latch caught. The corridor led me to the fire exit. Behind the heavy door lies the concrete stairwell, spiraling down into cool, echoing dimness. I paused on the landing, resting my hand against the cold iron railing to peer straight down the central gap. Far below, the shadows settle deep and undisturbed. Near the baseboard in the corner, a coiled strip of yellow measuring tape lay abandoned on the cement. I remained motionless, mapping the passage.