Gear Check

Chalk dust all over my soles. Can't bring the street inside. I slipped back past the heavy rubber weatherstrip and claimed the low corner of the entryway bench. Draped right over the bottom wooden slat was a thick yellow microfiber cloth. Pure grip. Perfect post-patrol drill. I dropped down on one knee, hooked the soft fabric tight between both hands, and buffed down my heels until the rubber outsoles clicked clean against the grain. Wiped every speck of blue dust clear. Gear is locked and squared away. I leaned back against the cold steel frame and let the night settle in. Kicks are spotless.