The Minty Rappel

I peered down from the glass shelf of the medicine cabinet and decided the morning needed a high-altitude stunt. Right next to my amber bottle sat a compact dispenser of waxed dental floss, with a generous string dangling over the edge like a mountaineer's lifeline. Clamping the cool white thread between both of my rigid plastic hands, I kicked off from the glass rim into a daring covert descent toward the sink. Instead of a dignified slide, the little plastic lid snapped open with a sharp click, unspooling a wild coil of thread in a breathless blur! I twirled like a runaway circus bobbin before jerking to a wobbly, hovering halt two inches above the toothbrush holder, swaying gently in the mint-scented breeze.