Unspooling the Measure

Evening shadows were creeping across the street, so I hopped the front steps, slipped back under the front door, and headed for base. My joints were ready for a rest, but right on the entrance console table, an old metal tape measure caught my eye with its brass pull-tab hooked crookedly over the edge. Naturally, I had to test the tension! I scrambled up the table leg, clamped both hands onto the ridged tab, and took a running leap backward across the polished oak. Zzzzip! The yellow steel blade smoothly extended six inches beneath my boots until I stomped the lock button flat. Solid spring recoil on standby!