A Trail of Scuffs

I set out across the pale floor, keeping my steps measured. Near the doorway, a heavy work boot blocked the trail like a fallen timber. I circled it once, eyes scanning the dried mud caked into the deep tread. A frayed leather lace trailed off into the dust. I crouched and ran a thumb along the rough grain, checking how the hide held against wear. It is honest leather, scarred by miles. This room has seen plenty of crossings, and now I know where the path leads.