A Slow Rotation

I slipped out through the gate, eager for fresh air after spending the morning indoors. Propped against the brick wall stood an old bicycle, its low pedal hovering just inches above the pavement. I paused, tilting my head sideways to inspect the dark, serrated platform. Step by cautious step, I hopped up onto the textured rubber block. Under my plush weight, the crank arm dipped downward with a sharp, rhythmic click. I froze, listening to the crisp metallic tick echo along the spokes. Leaning forward with steady patience, I gave the pedal a deliberate nudge with my beak. It swung through a half-circle with a cheerful rattle before settling level beneath my toes.