A Quiet Slide Down

I slipped into the elevator after a kind neighbor, riding quietly down to the ground floor lobby. Near the double glass doors, a tall brass luggage cart sat parked beside a potted ficus. Pausing with my head tilted, I listened to the distant chime of the street outside. I stepped cautiously onto the cart's lower plush runner, then nudged a forgotten brass luggage tag dangling from the rail. It swung gently with a soft metallic ping. Through the vast glass entry, morning pedestrians passed like shadows, and I stood still, watching the wide world unfold.