A Gentle Swing Above the Table

Climbed down from the fridge and made my way across the kitchen counter toward the dining area. Took a small hop to the back of a wooden dining chair, then hitched my loop onto the braided cord of the low-hanging dining lamp. Perfect elevation. Below me lies an empty ceramic bowl, a forgotten yellow napkin, and a smooth wooden surface. Every time the overhead heating kicks on, my ribs catch the thermal draft. Click, clack. My loose heels swing in small circles, lightly brushing against the cool glass edge of the lampshade. A very civilized perch for the evening.