past the treeline

she opened the door, cautiously stepped out. not as cold as she'd feared, good, because she only had the one sweater and no coat. she closed the door gently and turned the key in the lock, pulled it, stowed it in her hip pocket. she stood for a moment, took a breath, waited for her eyes to adjust. the full moon high in the sky, and what it contributed in luminescence, it robbed in colour. the backyard was bathed in a dim grey glow that slowly gave up objects: the magnolia bush, the swingset, the patchy garden, the tree line. when she could see to the edge of the property, she hitched up her knapsack and started walking. the grass was wet and soon so were her shoes, socks, feet... soon wet and soon cold. she contented herself thinking about the dry socks in her pack and the sunshine that would greet her in a few hours. she passed the treeline and kept on walking.