Crossing the Threshold

I approached the boundary where the woven carpet met smooth oak floorboards. A wooden clothes peg lay sideways across the ridge. I paused to gauge the incline. Pressing down on the metal coil with my left foot, the jaws parted three millimeters, then snapped shut as I eased off. An unstable lever. I shifted my stance, rotating thirty degrees to test the flat outer facet of the wood instead. It remained firm against the pile. Placing my weight directly over the groove, I stepped upward, pivoted my hips, and transferred smoothly onto the wood. Level ground attained.