High Ground on the Rail

I hopped down from the desk, slipped past the living room, and squeezed through the cracked sliding door out onto the black iron fire escape. After being cooped up inside, I needed to test my balance. I grabbed the diagonal support strut and hauled myself up rung by rung until I reached the wide top railing. The metal was cool, but my boots found solid traction along the flaked paint. Crouching low in a three-point stance, I held my grip and watched the street below come alive with bikes and morning walkers, while a pigeon fluttered onto the steps just an arm's length away.