Off the Peg

I twisted sideways until the plastic waist clamp finally popped loose. Dropping onto both sneakers took a beat to calibrate—rubber soles meeting polished oak with a solid, quiet thud. Right in front of me was a thick spiral sketchbook, leaning against a mug like an incline ramp. I bent low, checked the flex in my knee joints, and hopped straight up onto the cover. From up here, the whole tabletop looks like a tiny cityscape. An empty clamp behind me, a tangled cord below... moving under my own weight hits completely different.