Stepping Across the Sill

The indoor floor had run its course. I made my way to the base of the tall glass sliding door, where a cool draft leaked through the brush seal. The aluminum runner rose like a silver ramp in front of me. I stepped directly into the track, testing the ridged metal beneath my tall boots, and braced one shoulder against the glass to slide the heavy panel a fraction of an inch wider. Outside, the rough concrete balcony floor caught the crisp morning light. A dried maple leaf had caught in the corner, its veins sharp and brittle. I stepped through the threshold, claiming the new ground with deliberate stride.