Scaling the Fabric Ridge

Morning light hit the edge of the window frame, and I couldn't resist checking out the high ground. I leaped from the side table to the sill, catching the hem of the sheer white curtain just in time. Digging my plastic boot tips into the loose weave, I hoisted myself up fold by fold until I reached a narrow wooden crossbar. Down below, the whole living room looked like an open grid. When a small draft fluttered the fabric beneath my knees, I leaned right into the breeze to steady the sway. Best patrol perch yet.