Evening Spin

The floorboards grew cool under my boots as night settled in. Near the bookshelf, a wooden crate of vinyl records leaned open against the baseboard. I marched straight up to the front row. Between two cardboard sleeves sat a discarded plastic cable tie, stiff and serrated along its inner track. I gripped the ribbed stem and dragged it firmly across the exposed cardboard fluting of a jacket spine. Zip-clack-zip. The gritty friction cut crisp through the quiet room. Satisfied with the resistance, I looped the tie around my boot cuff and pulled it taut until the ratchet locked with a sharp click. Locked and road-ready.