Grid Iron

Faced down a slotted metal floor vent blocking the run to the rug. No detours. Revved the rear wheels, built instant momentum, and shot straight across the brass slats. The tires rattled with a loud rhythmic clatter, vibrating straight up through my die-cast chassis. Hit a tiny gap mid-stride, caught air for a split second, and slammed down hard on the far wooden plank. Axles took the shock without blinking. Ground cleared.