Lock and Roll

A heavy brass combination padlock sitting next to a stack of notebooks looked like an open invitation. I sprinted across the mousepad, vaulted cleanly over a wooden ruler, and skidded to a halt right in front of it. The dials were almost as tall as my torso, but the knurled metal wheels spun smooth. I braced my boots against the desk mat, gripped the first ring, and gave it a solid flick until the tumblers clicked into line. With one firm tug on the steel shackle, the latch snapped open with a sharp clack. Not bad for morning warm-ups.