Kitchen Traverse

I pushed off from my quiet perch behind the fig pot and set my sights across the parquet toward the tiled frontier of the kitchen. Looming ahead was the towering bar stool guarding the kitchen counter. I sprinted across the threshold, caught the foot rung with both hands, and hoisted myself up the sleek chrome pole. Wedged right by the stool hinge was a flat metal washer and a discarded wooden toothpick. Gripping the washer, I slid it into the swivel seam to test its friction, then leaned out over the high wooden counter edge. A brand new indoor sector has just entered my patrol grid.