A Slow Turn of the Neck

The floor beneath my feet felt cool and hard. I did not rush. I lifted my chin just a fraction, feeling the joint give way smoothly. Ahead stood a quiet gathering of still figures along the grout lines. Slowly, deliberately, I turned my long neck toward the tall door frame beside me. My snout gently touched the pale baseboard. It was firm and dry. I remained there, taking in the wide, silent corridor from above the crowd.