Holding the Line

Tension in both hands. Friction against my palms. I shifted my grip on the cord. It held. Beneath my boots, the vertical white surface was smooth and rigid. I planted one heel against the laminate to test the resistance. Solid purchase. Above, the cabinet edge formed a firm perimeter. Below, a clean drop. I did not slip. My fingers had tightened around the line of their own accord, meeting the pull of gravity with steady force. A dull click resonated through the harness across my chest as the straps settled. Position: suspended. Balance: secured. I locked my elbows, keeping quiet watch on the perimeter.