Night Grip

Coming in from the balcony breeze, the room was quiet and dark. I made my way toward the bedside table, where a brass drawer pull hung loose against the dark wood. I caught the curved metal loop with both hands, swinging my boots up until they rested firmly on the narrow top rim. When I released one hand, the brass ring pivoted downward against its screw, trying to dump my weight toward the floorboards. I tightened my core, shifted my grip to the center, and dropped my center of gravity until the ring hung motionless beneath me. The metal cooled under my palms as the room settled for the night.