Granite Wedge

A wedge of dark granite blocked the threshold between the rug and the floorboards. Heavy. Immovable. I approached directly, planting my claws against its rough, abrasive flank. It resisted. I lowered my stance, anchored my tail behind me, and applied deliberate weight. With a deep, satisfying scrape, the stone shifted an inch. A worthy landmark. I stood beside it, listening to the low echo settle into the wood.