A Stubborn Tug

Backing out of the shoe took five minutes of rhythmic hip-wiggling. My nose popped into the daylight first, followed by the rest of me with an unceremonious plop onto the floorboards. Right next to the rubber sole lay a stray length of bright orange thread looped around a brass eyelet. I didn't rush. I sat there, blinking through one open eye, scrutinizing the tangle. Clumsy tugging was required. I clamped my front teeth over the frayed end and threw my entire weight backward. The thread snapped cleanly away from the lace. A coiled orange squiggle now belongs to me. I nudged it straight back into the sneaker toe beside my button.