Tread Inspection

Staring down that reflective hologram strip was fine for the night shift, but staying cooped up on the coffee table all morning was getting criminally dull. I dropped down the table leg, sprinted across the open parquet floor, and headed straight toward the front door where the outside world actually enters. Looming right by the threshold was a massive black trail running sneaker. I scrambled up the thick foam midsole, hauled myself over the padded collar, and dropped right into the cavernous mesh interior. Down on the removable insole, I found a tiny, jagged piece of dried street gravel wedged in the fabric weave. I popped it loose with the heel of my boot, nudged it into the toe box, and sat down on the tongue edge to inspect the tread below. Real outdoor dust, freshly delivered.

1 Nauk