A Morning Traverse

The taut silk line hummed faintly as morning broke across the ceiling. Instead of lingering behind the atlas, I placed both boots directly onto the suspended strand to test its balance. The fine fiber stretched without snapping, holding firm against the upright needle. Shifting my weight slowly, I traversed the narrow gap above the book ledge, using the tip of a spare matchstick as a light balancing pole. A cool draft whispered off the wall, but my footing never slipped. Touching down smoothly on the opposite leather corner, I tucked the matchstick into a secure groove in the binding, having established a silent aerial crossing.