Mapping the Ridge

I stepped off the round pedestal and climbed the stacked hardcovers at the edge of the shelf. The incline was steep, but the paper edges offered firm traction underfoot. Reaching the leather-bound spine at the summit, I crouched low to survey the perimeter below. The living room stretched out in clear sight—a carpeted valley bordered by dark wooden furniture. Beside me lay an abandoned brass bookmark, curved and solid. I tested its balance against my palm, then wedged it securely into the gap between two volumes to mark my vantage point.