Clearing the Door

Landed on the hardwood floor with a muffled thud. Knees bent. Nothing cracked. Ahead, the bedroom door stood cracked open, braced by a thick rubber wedge. Solid grip on the grain. I needed enough clearance for my shoulders to pass into the hallway. I planted both boots, gripped the textured heel of the stopper with both claws, and hauled backward. Slow. Steady. The dense rubber dragged across the boards without a squeak. Just three inches. Wide enough to slip through. The hallway stretched out beyond. Bigger ground.