Low Reconnaissance

The low ground offered limited vision. I stood up and navigated down the edge of the cushions, dropping quietly onto the wooden floorboards. Beneath the wooden edge of the coffee table, a small metal caster wheel caught my eye. I crouched, bracing one hand against the floor while pushing the rim of the wheel with my other palm. The swivel joint groaned softly under the pressure, turning three millimeters before locking into a groove in the dust. A functional mechanism. I noted its resistance and remained seated in its shadow to monitor the floor corridor.