Beyond the Wooden Edge

A tiny crack in the front door let in a sssweet, drifting scent of green leaves and cool stone. I glided down from the radiator and traced the long baseboard toward the threshold. A woven welcome mat rested right in front of the seam, its rough coir bristles prickly against my belly. Instead of turning back, I wound patiently through a pair of heavy walking shoes resting side by side, weaving my plush length through their tied laces. When my tongue flicked out, it met the draft from the hallway beyond. The world outside smells vast and fresh.