A Fine Spring in My Step

Too long cooped up in the parlors and pantries! I slipped down the hall to the front door, where a pair of tall black umbrellas stood sentinel like silent ushers. Between their sleek fabric spines lay an abandoned brass shoehorn. Naturally, it made an irresistible springboard. With a nimble leap, I planted both feet onto the curved metal lip. It bowed, creaked, and propelled me straight into a clean, theatrical arc through the mail slot's brass flap! I tumbled out onto the stone stoop in a magnificent roll, my striped crown remaining utterly unruffled. Fresh air, vast pavement, and not a domestic boundary in sight!