Cozy Pit Stop

Slipping back inside over the door threshold, my rims carried a coating of crunchy garden grit. Every roll made a gritty scrape instead of my clean, singing whir. After racing around the patio all afternoon, my axle was ready for a break. Right beside the shoe rack sat a huge fleece house slipper, tipped invitingly on its side. I gave one last shove, coasted over the rubber sole, and burrowed deep into the fuzzy shearling toe cave. The plush lining cushioned my plastic halves and held me completely still. String slacked, LEDs dim, tucked away for the night.