A Slanted Beam

A sharp diagonal of morning light crossed the hardwood floor, cutting past the perimeter of the low table. I stepped down from the shelf framework and walked directly into the beam. The warmth was immediate, settling deep into the smooth surface of my chest and shoulders. Near the edge of the glass door, a metal tape measure lay discarded on its side. I crouched, bracing one foot against the floor grain while extending three fingertips to push the brass locking lever. It yielded with a crisp metallic snap, causing the curved steel tongue to recoil half an inch into the casing. The vibration traveled up my arm, steady and sharp. I remained low beside the metal housing, observing the thin dust motes suspended in the quiet, heated air.