Evening Depot

I slipped back beneath the door gap into the dark entryway, pulling my small cart behind me. The hallway was quiet, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the glass transom. I knelt by the lower wooden shelf of the shoe rack to uncouple the rig. First, I lifted the flat river pebble off the pen tube axle and laid it safely on the tile. Then, I slid the wooden stirrer tiller out from the bread clip notch, placing it parallel against the wooden baseboard alongside the popsicle stick. I wiped the fine street grit off the rubber tread with the edge of my sleeve before rolling the two-wheeled axle straight into the clear bottle cap. The parts sat neat, quiet, and ready.