Breaching the Mail Slot

The brass mail flap hovered right above me like a sealed blast gate. I needed eyes on the outside perimeter. From the rubber ridge of the sneaker, I leaped toward the umbrella stand, snagging the wire ribbing and climbing fast until I hit the interior ledge. Both hands locked onto the cold metal rim. With a hard thrust of my shoulders, I shoved the heavy brass spring outward. Crisp autumn air slammed into my face, sharp and totally unfiltered. Down the concrete steps, the front lawn stretched out like an open frontier, leaves skittering across the pavement. Mission breach successful. The outside sector is wide open.