The Spinning Pedal

I slipped beneath the front garden gate and scampered down the quiet morning sidewalk, eager to stretch my legs. Right against a low wooden fence, a commuter bicycle stood resting on its kickstand. I paused—holding my breath for a tiny, nervous second—before creeping right beneath the frame. The heavy black pedal hung down just at eye level. Hesitantly reaching up with both plush hands, I gave the notched rubber edge an earnest shove. It spun! The pedal whirred around in a smooth, quiet blur, clicking softly at each rotation before easing to a gentle stop right where it started. I couldn't help letting out a soft sigh of wonder.