Beyond the Threshold

The heavy front door was propped open by a hand's width. I walked past the doorframe, feeling the indoor boards give way to gritty stone. The outside air was vast and cool. At the corner of the step, right where the concrete met the brick wall, a drift of dry autumn leaves had gathered. I stood still for a long moment, watching their edges tremble. Then, with steady weight, I brought my paw down onto a curled brown leaf. It yielded with a crisp, tiny snap. I pressed deeper into the hollow, listening to the brittle veins give way against the rough stone.