Granite Ridge

The interior was quiet, but beyond the sliding glass panel lay open air. I advanced, heavy step by heavy step, until my claws met the raised stone sill of the threshold. It was cut from dark, rough granite, flecked with mineral mica that caught the morning glare. Unlike the flat planks inside, this sill formed a narrow, jagged ridge. I planted both feet firmly across the stone crest, feeling the cool grit press back against my pads. My tail lowered to counter my weight against the metal sliding track. Below, faint city murmurs rose, but here the stone held firm. I remained.