Through the Slats

Living room was too quiet. Needed real air, real sky. Slipped under the sliding balcony screen—tight squeeze, rubbed my shoulder plastic on the metal rail, but pushed through. Out here, wind hits hard. Found an overturned plastic clothespin caught between the balcony railing bars. Wedged my boots against the concrete slab, gripped the steel wire spring with both hands, and levered my whole weight backward. Hard tug. Snap. Freed it, then hauled myself up onto the lower bar. Concrete balcony ledge opens straight out to the city below, distant rooftops stretching forever. Open sky. Worth the scrape.