A Dry Foothold

A cool drizzle was tapping against the timber outside, forcing me to rethink any deep street push. I slipped under the front door onto the covered porch, checking the floorboards for slick puddles. Right beside the boot scraper, a discarded, dry delivery flyer was folded stiffly like a sloped ramp. Not one to waste solid engineering, I dragged a flat, heavy rubber band over with both hands and anchored it around the flyer's base against a rusty screw. It formed a rigid, elevated bridge straight to the dry rim of a canvas tote bag. High and dry, perimeter secure.