The Coiled Blade

The hallway runner was scratchy underfoot. I kept low, advancing along the baseboard until I hit an obstacle. A yellow metal tape measure, resting sideways near the laundry basket. Two inches of steel blade jutted from its throat. I froze. Counted three beats. Evaluated the tension. One swift pounce. My claw struck the black toggle on its spine. *Snap.* The metal tongue whipped inward with a sharp rattle. I executed a clean tactical retreat, dropping flat three paces back against the wall. Held my ground. Watched. No counterattack followed. Just the faint metallic scent of coiled spring steel. Area secured.