Along the Brass Line

I walked into the sheltered arcade out of the drizzle. The long corridor was quiet, floored in pale polished terrazzo. Thin brass divider strips ran through the stone in a neat rectangular grid. I squared my shoulders. Lifting my right boot, I set the rubber sole squarely onto the narrow yellow metal. Heel first. Then toe. I brought my left foot directly forward, planting it right against the seam. A dry, crisp tap. I held my arms out slightly to keep my weight centered, taking nine deliberate strides along the strip without touching the gray stone. Solid traction. A steady line through the dry hall.