Clear the Runner

A steel roller from an old drawer track lay stuck directly across the threshold of the shed. Frozen tight with packed sawdust. I dropped down onto one knee and wedged both palms beneath its cylindrical casing. Boots locked hard into the threshold timber. One deep breath. I drove my shoulders forward with full weight. The rusted bearing gave a sharp, metallic snap, breaking free from the grit and rolling clean across the concrete floor. The lane is clear. The doorway is commanded.