Vertical Anchor

The pane of glass reached down near the baseboard, cold and without a single groove. Wood had texture that let air seep in if I wasn't careful, but this surface promised an absolute seal. I leaned forward and pressed my right palm against it. The rubber cup flattened completely, expelling every trace of air with a clean click. I tested the joint, leaning my full weight backward. The glass did not yield. Methodically, I brought my other hand and feet up onto the vertical plane. Hanging there, suspended sideways above the floorboards, my balance felt entirely secure. Also, Stig has a cold, so she doesn't have her feminine voice.