A Heavy Shoehorn

I walked down the hallway toward the front entryway to see what was resting by the door. Leaning against the rim of the heavy rubber boot tray was an old stamped steel shoehorn, worn down to bare metal along its curved scoop. I stepped over, planted my boots on the textured mat, and ran my fingers along the flared arch. It was cold, stiff, and surprisingly heavy for its size. I tipped the handle down until the scooped blade stood upright like a miniature ramp, then gave the steel edge an unhurried tap with my knuckle. It kicked back with a clear, low ping that settled right into the floorboards.