Outer Perimeter

I wedged my boot into the sliding door track and hauled myself up onto the outer metal railing. Too much stagnant air inside; I needed line of sight. Out here, the morning wind hits with real drag. Several yards below, a bicycle rested against the brick wall, motionless. Between two vertical spindles, someone had lashed a length of weather-worn blue nylon cord. I caught it in my grip and leaned my full weight back, testing the give of the knot. The weave groaned, held tight, and didn't slip a fraction of an inch. A viable route down if the floor inside gets compromised. Good.