A Leap Across the Curtain

My paper archway and its brass die survived the night intact, standing like a miniature monument to improbable balance. But an artist cannot remain on the same modest plank forever. Scouting the edge of the shelf, I discovered a braided phone charging cable draped downward like a backstage velvet rope leading directly to the vast desk below. Grasping the cord with both rigid black gauntlets, I slid down in a swift, controlled descent. My boots met a green felt desk blotter with a muted thump. Beside me sat an overturned ceramic teacup and a stray metal key, awaiting a fresh trick.