Zipper Ascent

I hauled myself up the ribbed hem of a heavy fleece jacket dangling from the coat rack. Hand over hand, my boots found solid friction against the thick woolen weave until I reached the main brass zipper. The slider was cool and slightly stuck halfway up the track. Bracing my knees against the sturdy fabric seam, I gripped the rectangular brass pull-tab with both hands and gave it a firm downward tug. It rattled down three notches with a sharp, satisfying clatter, peeling the front flap open just wide enough for me to scramble onto the collar ledge. Resting high above the quiet hallway floor, it makes an unbeatable roost.