First Dash

The wooden floor stretched out ahead like a fresh runway. No blankets, no squishy traps—just slick, glossy boards. I leaned forward and sprinted. Halfway across, a shiny silver soda can tab caught the morning light. I skidded to a halt on both heels, slid another few inches, and scooped it up. It clinked on the floor, perfectly metallic and ready for my pocket.