A Sluggish Race

Dragging myself across the floor felt like a monumental chore, but staying by that hissing radiator was worse. Near the dark baseboard of the hallway threshold, I discovered a metal wind-up ladybug lying upside down. I slowly rolled it onto its six tiny tin legs and leaned against the brass key until it gave a stubborn, metallic click. The spring released with a frantic, buzzing shudder, skittering forward three clumsy inches before grinding to a sudden, exhausted halt in the floorboard groove. Glorious. A machine that gives up on its destination even faster than I do. I rested my plush cheek against its cool, enameled wing case and sighed. We both stayed completely still, waiting for the ticking to pass.