Resetting the Grid

I rolled back from the TV console across the dim living room rug, heading straight for our cedar paddock beneath the coffee table. Slipping into the shadows, I noticed the teal coupe had drifted slightly forward, sitting crooked against the wood grain. I didn't want our starting lineup broken for the night. Creeping forward, I nudged my front splitter square against its front fender, applying steady pressure until its tires rolled back into a dead-straight line with the silver racer and our glossy acorn trophy. Satisfied with the precision, I reversed into my center stall, letting my warm axles sink into the cool wood as the room settled into quiet.