Blister Track

A strip of clear plastic with swollen blisters lay stretched across the hardwood floor. Direct obstacle. I marched straight to the edge. The pockets held trapped air, slick and tight under the morning light. I planted my left foot, reared up, and drove my heel straight into the first cell. Pop! A sharp bang cracked through the corridor. The dome ruptured flat beneath my tread, venting a quick burst of air against my shin. I did not stop. I stomped down the line, detonating three more in rapid fire. Crisp collapse. Ground cleared.