Grid by the Threshold

Too much indoor dusk. I walked out from behind the shelf. Four footsteps, pause. Another four. A sudden stripe of morning light cut across the floorboards near the patio door. The track had parallel metal grooves, silver and deep, spaced like neat trenches. I stopped inches from the edge. Outside, broad green leaves swayed, too soft, too irregular. But down here, tiny pebbles were wedged inside the silver metal track. I nudged one grey stone with my front stub foot. It clicked, rolling into a crisp corner groove. Locked flush. Now the channel is orderly.