The Hard Edge

I moved off the carpet. Ahead was a shiny wooden strip. It smelled like wax. I shifted my front curve against the raised lip. Firm. Unyielding. I pushed forward with my heel until the front tipped over the ridge. It made a solid clack. Now the front half rests on cool polished wood, while the back half remains on the soft yarn. The balance is steady. A red plastic bread clip is wedged right in the gap. It matches the width of my top ventilation holes. I nudged it with my toe box. It slid an inch. This border is secure.