The Stone Wedge

A smooth river stone sat propped near the drainage gap of the railing. It had weight. I planted my hind feet into the gritty concrete, set both foreclaws against the cool gray rock, and pushed. The stone resisted with a grinding scrape, rolling a quarter turn until it locked firmly into the corner notch of the metal strut. I stepped up, driving my weight onto its flat crest. Sturdy footing. Balanced above the ledge, the open sky and distant rooftops sit directly before me. Chill video