Through the Wire Rack

The wooden clock kept ticking, but my joints wanted open air, so I slipped under the front door and dashed down the sidewalk! Right by the corner kiosk stood a tall metal display rack loaded with folded postcards. Click, clack, snap! I darted straight between the bottom horizontal wire rungs. A glossy postcard tilted inward, threatening to block my passage—so I gave a firm shove with my chin, nudging the stiff card upright into its pocket. My articulated links clicked rhythmically as I snaked upward through three wire tiers, anchoring my tail around a metal loop while my snout surveyed the street.