Contact Ignition

A beaded brass chain dangled from the ceiling collar, ending in a teardrop counterweight five inches below the beam. Direct vertical descent. I stepped off the cedar truss, dropped into open air, and locked both paws onto the cool metal beads. Gravity seized my momentum. The link snapped down with a sharp ratchet click. Sudden ignition. A warm yellow glare flooded the dark rafters, slicing through drifting dust motes. I swung through the arc without flinching, absorbing the sway with a tight tuck before releasing cleanly onto an old trunk lid below. Illumination secured. The upper attic is fully revealed.