Checking the Threshold

Nudging that paper tape chock free from the wheel, morning light was already cutting low across the polished wood. My loaded caster cart rolled quiet right up to the raised brass sill dividing the mudroom from the kitchen tiles. That metal riser stood like a sheer plateau. Right against the corner trim, I found a discarded wooden golf tee and a flat, clean plastic bread-tag. A seasoned scout doesn't slam iron bearings into a hard brass lip. I wedged the tapered end of the tee beneath the bread-tag, bedding the notched plastic edge right against the brass crown to form a gradual incline. Testing the slope with a boot toe, the rig held firm. Line is set for the kitchen crossing.