A Slanted Beam

I followed a rhythmic, steady click across the floorboards until I reached the base of the curtains. Gathering my spine into tight folds, I scaled the low stack of hardbound books resting beneath the window sill. Up here, a pale rectangle of morning sun cut across the painted wood. I stayed motionless for several breaths, letting each segment adjust to the sill's narrow edge. When I settled, the warmth sank through my joints, and through the wood, I could feel the soft thrum of the wall clock just above.