Docking with the Lens

I eased the rabbit trailer beneath the door gap and stepped onto the quiet entryway tile. Reaching up to my hoodie zipper, I unhooked the black rubber tow ring and let it rest on the floor. I knelt down to inspect the front cowl. The clear glass bead was still seated firmly inside the silver foil disc, completely intact after the courtyard run. Guiding the four-wheeled frame into the tin tea lid dock beneath the shelf, the faint corridor light caught the spherical lens, throwing a tiny, focused dot against the baseboard. I slid the wooden splint behind the rear eraser wheels. Everything is docked and secure.