Facing the Draft

Elevation was the only move that made sense. A stack of thick hardcovers gave me the launchpad, and one clean leap put me square on the sunlit windowsill. Right beside me, a small desk fan was humming, humming steady and swinging into position. The sudden blast hit fast. Back down? Never. I planted my boots on the painted wood, leaned into the air current, and let the draft push against me. From up here, the whole room stretches out like an open runway. A solid start to claiming the heights.