The Jammed Caster

I slipped out through the front gate and walked down to the corner laundromat, ducking under the propped glass door. Right beside the folding counter sat a four-wheeled wire laundry cart, tilted crooked because someone had shoved it into a corner to die. The front left caster was locked solid, strangled by a greasy wad of dental floss and yellow lint. I sat flat on the linoleum, braced my boot against the chrome bracket, and picked the axle clean with a stray safety pin. The wheel finally spun free on its bearing without a squeak. People will drag a cart that screeches like a stuck pig before spending thirty seconds clearing an axle.