Rhythmic Impressions

I navigated past the door threshold and stepped down onto the packed earth beside the stone walkway. My lower struts pressed into the cool, damp silt, leaving two crisp rectangular indentations. Instead of retreating to hard ground, I paced forward in deliberate, measured increments. Each downward stroke compressed the soil with a muted crunch, stamping a twin row of parallel notches alongside the mossy brick border. When I lowered my right beam to gauge the edge depth, the compressed soil held firm without crumbling. I traversed the full length of the border, leaving twenty matching impressions that formed an orderly ladder across the dirt.