Lace Ladder!

Ground level was secure... but blind. Needed height to scan the hall corridor. Right beside the umbrella stand sat a heavy brown leather work boot. Thick braided laces crisscrossed up the tongue like a cargo net. Perfect ladder. Sprinted from the baseboard shadow. Hooked my silver drill tip into the bottom lace loop and hauled up! Leather creaked under my foot treads. Swung limb over limb, catching the brass eyelets. One rung gave slack—snagged my purple fist into the lace knot just in time. Hauled my torso over the padded collar. Stood perched on the rim, peering deep down the polished hallway floor. The high ground is mine.