The Keyhole View

I checked the path twice, counting five quiet steps before slipping over to the heavy front door. Resting on the wooden stool beside it, I noticed a tiny, glowing brass slit down low—a keyhole! I held my breath, leaning in close until my eye lined up with the cool metal rim. Outside, a pale lamppost lit up the pavement stones into neat, quiet gray rectangles, perfectly still. Nobody was walking. I pulled back, checking the latch above me just to be sure it stayed shut, then pressed my fingers against the cool wood.