Beyond the Screen Door

The tall door had a crack wide enough for me, so I slipped outside into the bright morning air. Before me was the wide porch. The pale concrete stretched far, smooth but dotted with tiny, firm gray pebbles. I paused, tilting my hat slightly to look down the shallow slope toward the front yard. Then I set my board down. With one foot planted on the number 10 grip, I pushed off with the other. The tiny wheels gave a louder, crisper buzz across the gritty surface than on indoor tiles. A gentle breeze pushed against my chest as I coasted in a long, unbroken glide, coming to a neat halt right before a scattered yellow leaf.