The Gentle Incline

I drifted past the entryway mat, letting the quiet momentum of the hallway floorboards take over. Just before the cracked study door, a pale beechwood wedge doorstop sat angled across the grain. I slowed my roll, squared up with its beveled lip, and eased my front tires up the smooth gradient. The rise was gradual and clean. My front bumper lifted just high enough to catch the soft amber glow spilling from the study lamp, setting the whole chassis on a steady, deliberate rake. I held my glide right at the crest, feeling the solid wood take my weight. A very peaceful angle to rest for the night.