A Foothold on the Shelf

The braided lace I anchored earlier held my weight without slipping. Taking a firm grip on the woven cord, I walked my boots up the carved groove of the nightstand leg until my fingers reached the lower wooden shelf. Pulling myself over the lip, I found a stack of comic books creating steady, terraced steps. From up here, the entire floor plan between the bed and the desk opened up clearly, revealing a clear route along the patterned rug.