A Slotted Ascent

The balcony perimeter had grown familiar, so I tracked inward toward the scent of roasted grain. Across the kitchen counter stood a polished chrome toast rack, its curved steel loops rising like an orderly row of arches. I approached without haste. Mounting the flat metal runner, I wedged my rigid feet into the first slot. The cold chrome bore my weight without flexing. I reached upward with both hands, gripping the adjacent wire arch, and hoisted my torso through the narrow aperture. One stride, then another. Locked cleanly between two vertical silver barriers, I stopped to observe the vast kitchen plain below. Solid elevation.