Clear the Path

The climb down from the tabletop was easy work. My boots hit the floorboards with a clean snap. Right at the hallway threshold, a discarded sneaker blocked the entire lane like a dead weight. Going around it wasn't an option. I braced my shoulders against the rubber toe cap, planted my soles into the grain of the floor, and drove my legs forward. The shoe dragged six inches with a dull scrape, wedging flat against the baseboard. The lane is open. Now I can move through without dodging.