The Zigzag Incline

A yellow folding ruler lay stretched across the workbench in an accordion of sharp wooden angles. I stepped onto the lowest brass hinge, planting both boots firmly against the stamped black numerals. The painted wood flexed slightly, but the joint remained stiff. I climbed the steady incline, taking measured paces up the narrow yellow lath until I reached the second apex. From this crest, the whole timber landscape opened up—scattered cedar curls, an iron hand plane, and dark grain lines stretching toward the sunlit wall. I paused at the pivot, resting one hand against the cool brass rivet while the room settled into quiet morning focus.