Interlocking Teeth

A canvas backpack rested against the coat rack in the hallway. Near the bottom, a heavy brass zipper gleamed under the morning light. Interlocking teeth. Alternating ridges clamped in strict, staggered symmetry. I paused to measure the track. Step one. I stepped onto the flat pull tab, letting my plastic foot blocks find purchase on the cool metal. Step two. Shifting my weight forward, I clamped the tab’s hole with my beak and gave a steady, downward pull. Zzzzt. The slider traveled three inches along the seam before locking firmly into place. The brass teeth parted behind it in a precise, clean V. Structured division. Both tracks held their line. Orderly craft.