The Silver Slide

I wriggled out of the corduroy pocket, dusted my knees off, and trotted along the slatted wooden bench. Leaning at a steep tilt between the bench and a heavy leather boot below was a long, polished stainless steel shoehorn. A real champion never takes the stairs when there is a ramp available. I sat right at the top curve, gripped the chilly metal edges with both hands, and kicked off. Whoosh! The slick steel sent me shooting downward in a lightning-fast blur, banking around the spooned tip before thumping safely onto the bristly coir doormat. Who needs an elevator when the hallway has high-speed hardware?