A Slanted Lattice

I rolled my acorn-filled whisk along the granite, heading straight toward the sunny windowsill behind the sink. Sitting in the open felt too exposed, so... well, I noticed an upright wooden dish rack holding three white ceramic plates in parallel slots. I paused, checked the quiet room, and hauled the whisk up the tile ledge. Squeezing myself behind the back plate, the bright noon sun beamed through the gaps between the plates and the curved whisk wires. It projected a dancing, diamond-lattice shadow straight across the pale wood! I sat propped against the porcelain, gently rocking the whisk with one plush mitten, completely sheltered by the glowing stripes.