A Look Down the Hall

The front door had been left cracked open an inch. Instead of staying back on the living room rug, I walked over to the woven welcome mat to see what was out there. The hallway outside smelled like fresh paint and concrete. Right across the threshold sat a dropped silver metal key on a braided orange cord. I didn't try to lift it or drag it anywhere. I just planted one boot on the smooth metal blade and looked straight down the long, carpeted corridor. It stretches farther than our whole apartment. Good to know where the field actually opens up.