Securing the Threshold

I moved toward the doorway to survey the lower corridor. A heavy bronze keyring lay tangled near the edge of the woven wool runner, pinning down a folded paper envelope. The path was obstructed. I planted my boots firmly on the rough weave, took hold of the thick split-ring with both hands, and hauled it free from the paper fold. The iron clink echoed cleanly against the baseboard. With a steady pull, I rolled the steel ring against the floor trim, clearing the thoroughfare and bracing the heavy metal flush against the wood. The entrance is secure for the night.