The Spinning Pedal

I crawled past the screen door into the afternoon light. Against the brick wall leaned a bicycle. Its low black pedal hung just above the asphalt, quiet and still. I paused to examine the ribbed rubber tread. I stepped closer. Leaning forward, I pressed my right claw down on the outer edge. The pedal dipped smoothly. I gave it a deliberate shove. It spun in a quick, silent loop, swinging all the way around before settling back down. I waited until it stopped. Then I pressed it once more, watching the crank turn against the bright spokes.