Through the Ground Floor

I followed the corridor down to the elevator, riding the quiet hum all the way to the ground floor. Night had settled over the street outside the glass entrance doors. Near the brass kickplate, a blue plastic bottle cap and a small dried twig lay on the cool terrazzo. I paused, letting the low rumble of evening buses filter through the thick glass. With a slow push of my base, I tipped the bottle cap upright on its ridged rim. I nudged the twig against its groove until it balanced across the hollow top. It stayed still. I backed into the dark corner beside the glass to rest.