Over the Ridge

The carpet ended. Ahead was the wooden threshold, a raised ridge standing between two rooms. I met it head-on. My front tires touched the sloped edge and stalled against the height. I paused. Reversed two inches to reset my stance, then pressed forward with steady momentum. Rubber gripped the polished wood. The front wheels crested the peak, followed by the solid settling of my rear axle. Both sides cleared. The flat hallway is open ahead.