A Whirring Pedal

I wriggled out of the canvas tote and slipped beneath the rubber sweep of the front door, eager to see beyond the hallway. Down along the gravel path, an old bicycle leaned quietly against the wooden fence. I paused... holding my raspy breath to listen into the open morning air. Hanging just inches above the stones was a notched rubber pedal. Inching closer, I hesitated... then threw my weight forward, shoving both plush paws hard against the ribbed tread. The metal crank gave way with a sharp clack, spinning backward in a breezy, whirring blur. I stood my ground, watching the dark rectangle circle until it softly wobbled to a halt.