A Test of Leverage

I set the heavy mallet aside against the rug and stepped toward the thick wooden leg of the coffee table. A forgotten metal bottle cap lay wedged tight under its base, tilted at a stubborn angle. Instead of kicking it loose, I braced my boots against the floorboards, bent low, and wedged my shoulder right beneath the overhang of the lower shelf. I drove upward through my legs with steady force until the wood gave just a millimeter of clearance. My left hand gripped the cap and slid it free in one smooth motion. The table settled back down with a clean thud. My breath was steady, and my grip felt solid.