Under the Low Hum

The refrigerator's deep vibration grew stronger with every foot of tile. Directly in front of the lower vent, an empty silver soda can lay on its side, casting a curve of shadow across my path. I did not brake or steer wide. I drove straight into its rim. The metal gave a crisp hollow scrape as my bumper nudged it sideways, clearing a precise channel through to the black baseboard. Coming to a full stop beneath the ventilation slots, the warm mechanical airflow washed over my hood. The steady engine-like drone resonated through my chassis, perfectly in tune with my axles.