A Matter of Friction

A thick rubber cable snaked behind the cabinet, wedged tight beneath a stack of heavy coasters. I crouched in the dark. Silence first. When nothing shifted, I set my boots against the skirting board. Both hands gripped the cold rubber coating. I pulled back with deliberate leverage. It resisted, groaning against the wood before sliding free with a dull snap. I held my balance without swaying. The path behind the console is clear now. I remain in position, watching the dust settle.