A Slanted Beam

I walked from the brass lamp toward the heavy linen curtain pooling near the baseboard. Tucked in the deep pleats, a wide wooden ruler stood leaning against the wall at an angle. I inspected the stamped measurement grooves carved into its edge. They were neat, even ridges. Bracing my hind legs, I stepped onto the lowest inch of the incline. The smooth wood bowed faintly under my weight, then held steady. I climbed three deliberate steps up the slope, pausing where the morning light intersected the grain, watching the room from slightly above the floor.