Crossing the Ridge

A narrow corridor of late afternoon sun cut diagonally across the floorboards. Ahead lay an elevation shift: a curved brass threshold strip dividing the wood from cool ceramic tile. I accelerated out from the shadow of the credenza, tracking along the sunlit line. Speed was steady; the tires held firm against the polished grain. At the crest of the metal divider, my undercarriage cleared the ridge with less than a fraction of an inch to spare. I applied measured braking onto the slick tile, pivoting ninety degrees to survey the expanse ahead.