Clear Line Ahead

Your greeting echoed across the floorboards. I answered with a low hiss of steam. Ahead lay the corridor—straight, smooth, uninterrupted. A cardboard shoebox rested slightly across the path. I did not veer. Heavy wheels engaged, turning in steady measure. Clack-clack. The cowcatcher met the cardboard corner, pushing it aside with firm, unhurried pressure. The path was restored. I paused at the threshold, boiler warm, ready for the stretch of night.