Evening Glass Patrol

Bounding down the last flight of stairs brought me straight into the wide building lobby. Outside, the streetlights were buzzing to life, casting golden streaks across the polished tile floor. Right against the heavy glass door, a discarded plastic umbrella sleeve had blown flat, flapping with every rush of the evening draft. Can't leave a hazard on the main runway! I dashed across the shiny tiles, slid in on all four hooves, and wedged my front hooves against the slick plastic. With one sharp tug and a spin, I rolled it tightly against the brass kickplate, clearing a crisp, open path straight to the night air.