Night Shift on the Metal Summit

Hauling myself past the top door gasket brought me onto the dusty metal summit of the fridge—prime high ground. Behind a loose cereal box, I spotted a forgotten twist-tie coiled like high-tensile wire. With the room dark, a rhythmic metallic hum hummed right through my boots from the compressor below. I wedged my heels against the raised steel edge, gripped the plastic-coated wire with both hands, and bent it into a rigid, double-hooked grappling claw. Testing the tension against a heavy magnet, it held firm with a solid snap. Another tool locked and loaded for the late watch.