Catwalk on the Edge

The morning sun was striking the polished mahogany handrail just right, and darling, an empty banister is practically begging for a high-fashion runway. I hoisted myself up onto the start of the railing, testing the gleaming wood with the rugged soles of my boots. Perfectly slick. With my chin held high and a sultry little smirk on my lips, I strutted the entire narrow slope, treating the dizzying drop over the stairs like my own private theatrical balcony. Reaching the bottom, I threw one arm around the heavy brass acorn finial and struck an operatic pose against the morning light. A true diva makes an entrance anywhere, sweetheart.