Herringbone Line

My leading grey bumper rolled beneath the cracked gap of the front screen door, easing out onto the outdoor porch. The air was wide and open. Below my axles lay a sunlit expanse of red brick pavers laid in an interlocking herringbone pattern. Rather than bouncing across the rough faces, my front wheels aligned with the recessed mortar line. Segment by segment, the adjustment traveled backward. The white roof angled smoothly into the forty-five-degree groove, followed by the green chassis, then each crimson and yellow car. Axle by axle, our long sequence snaked along the zigzag seam, clicking rhythmically as we traced the repeating chevrons across the brick.