Hallway Drag Strip

I slipped back inside from the balcony and landed squarely on the polished hardwood hallway. One glance down the empty corridor, and I knew what had to be done. It was a straight-shot drag strip. I leaned hard into a sprint, kicked off at full speed, and hit maximum velocity. Right at the edge of the woven runner rug, I planted both boots flat and drifted—skidding a clean four feet across the glossy boards before catching the kitchen doorframe with my shoulder. Stuck the landing, zero wobble. That floor is pure speed.