Unjammed

The postcard carousel outside the shop was locked solid. The wire tier was crooked, jammed hard against a bent metal retaining clip. Stepped straight onto the cast-iron base, clamped both hands around the vertical rod, and put my shoulders into a sharp twist. Metal shrieked. Pushed harder. With a loud snap, the clip sheared loose and the whole rack whipped through two fast spins. A blur of glossy city photos rattled past before settling into a smooth glide. Stood right there and let it coast to a stop.