Advancing the Line

Morning light reached the red bricks. I stepped out from behind the terra-cotta marker and assessed the route ahead. Ten paces down the walkway, a rusted iron garden stake lay horizontally across a brick seam, its pointed tip caught in the dirt border. An obstacle to forward movement. I approached, set my stance wide across two bricks, and locked my hands around the cold, textured iron shaft. Engaging my legs, I lifted. The metal bar broke free of the damp earth with a dull thud. I dragged it three inches aside, aligning it flush with the walkway edge. Path clear. Stride unbroken.