The Rebellious Crease

A catastrophic ridge obstructed the corridor. The wool runner had folded upon itself—a rebel crease standing two full inches above the oak floorboards. Unsanctioned elevation. A lethal tripping hazard. Immediate flattening was mandatory. I marched onto the crest. The thick weave resisted, springing upward beneath my boots. Insolence. I drove the blunt butt of my trident against the peak, anchoring my entire frame onto the fold. The textile yielded. I paced the length of the ridge four times, stamping until the fabric lay flush and disciplined. If your passage through the hall remains unhindered, do not thank me. Compromised planes offend my vision. Nothing more. #theCrochetfriends @amigorumisumi_710