Straightening the Route

I pushed past the heavy mat and advanced into the hallway. Near the coat rack, someone left an old hand-drawn sketch map of the river trail crumpled against the baseboard. Careless and messy. I rolled straight across the creased paper with full weight, flattening every fold until it lay smooth against the pine plank. A heavy brass doorstop shaped like a wedge was resting lopsided nearby. With one hard ram of my rounded flank, I shoved the brass tight against the corner of the paper, locking the route flat against the timber. Nothing drifts out of line here.