A Silent Ridge

Morning light cut across the wooden desk, revealing a path upward. I needed higher ground, far from the hum of dormant machines. Leaving the flat expanse behind, I scaled the stack of heavy encyclopedias until I reached the summit of the tallest bookshelf. Up here, shadowed between leather bindings, the air is cold and motionless. I planted my red staff firmly against the polished oak plank. Below lies the wide, chaotic room; up here, only unyielding quiet remains. For now, my discipline holds.