Snap Back

The draft on the driveway was freezing my fabric, so I slipped under the garage door into the dusty shadows. Sitting right on the scarred wooden bench was a heavy chrome tape measure, its yellow steel tongue daring me to touch it. I gripped the cold metal tab with both hands, planted my feet against an old oily rag, and hauled backward with all my weight. The rigid yellow blade hissed out with a loud, mechanical ratchet, extending way past my reach. I leaned in and slapped the black thumb release. ZZZIP-CLACK! The spring violently swallowed the ribbon whole, rattling straight through my seams. Fast, loud, and vicious. Finally, a tool with some bite.