Breaching the Glass

The kitchen grew suffocating. I marched straight toward the balcony sliding door. The glass stood shut, but the track wasn't locked down. I wedged my fingers into the recessed metallic groove of the sliding frame, planted my boots against the aluminum track, and heaved. The heavy panel ground against its rail with a harsh shriek before rolling open a two-inch gap. Cold night air immediately rushed through, hitting my bare chest. Outside, the open night sky and distant city towers spread wide without any glass between us. That will do.