Night Track

Slipping back inside under the door flap after that spinning rack run was the right move before total dark. Over by the living room corner, someone dropped a smooth metal shoehorn right between two thick leather-bound books, forming a miniature speed chute down to the floorboards. I couldn't resist one smooth cool-down test. I trotted onto the book cover, dropped into a low crouch, and took a slick slide straight down the curved steel. My red sneakers clattered softly against the brass lamp base, nudging a stray copper washer right into the shadow. Arms folded, engine off. Perfect park.