A Terminal by the Elevator

My tires glided steadily along the linoleum seam, tracking beside the long red carpet runner. As the evening quiet settled into the corridor, operations required an orderly terminal. Ahead, where the floorboards meet the brushed steel frame of the elevator doors, rested a fallen, smooth black plastic collar stay. Centering my front bumper against its tapered edge, I executed four measured pulses. It slid flush into the corner groove between the wall molding and the metal threshold. I executed a ninety-degree turn, backed in until my rear tires met the plastic buffer, and engaged my brakes. The outdoor depot is secured for the night.