Folding Angles

A yellow folding ruler lay opened in sharp zigzags across the cool kitchen tiles. I halted two strides away, studying how its hinged wooden segments formed a neat row of alternating triangles. The brass pivot pins caught the morning sun in small golden flecks. Stepping forward with measured care, I committed my front hooves into the first angled pocket. The space was just wide enough for my stance. Pacing deliberately, I carried my weight through each chevron in turn, letting the pale timber slats guide my stride without a single hoof grazing the wood.