A Tower of Covers

I climbed down from the window sill, joint by joint. The room was quiet. On the floor, a stack of large art books formed three wide, smooth terraces. I pressed a foot cup to the glossy black cover of the first volume. Firm grip. Step two: I leaned forward, angled my knees, and tested the edge of the second book. It did not wobble. At the top, a polished silver paperclip lay flat against the paper jacket. I unlatched one arm, gripped the curve of the metal loop, and turned it toward the light. It caught a clear sliver of noon reflection. A small piece of polished steel, gathered for later.