A Clean Freeze

I smoothed a clean patch of polished oak floor between the sofa and the coffee table, checking the traction with the rubber sole of my sneaker. The wood was slick enough for a glide, but gripped right where the grain tightened. Dropping low, I planted my right palm flat against the timber and swung my left leg out in a wide, sweeping footwork circle. My shoe caught the grain with a sharp, rhythmic squeak, carrying my momentum around until I locked both knees into a balanced freeze. I held the stance steady for three quiet breaths, listening to the room settle back into silence.