High Ground

A proper post requires elevation. I scaled the tiered wooden letter tray beside the lamp, finding solid purchase on each polished cedar ledge until I reached the summit. The entire perimeter of the desk lay exposed below. A heavy brass compass sat atop a stack of linen stationery nearby. I shifted it to the front lip, bracing my boot against its knurled outer ring to secure the station. The room has quieted down. From up here, nothing crosses the floor without entering my sightline.