A Firm Foothold

I swung my heavy legs over the edge of the sofa cushion and dropped down to the hardwood floor. The thud of my boots echoed quietly in the dark room, solid and steady. While checking the shadows along the baseboard, my toe bumped against an abandoned metal binder clip. It gave a sharp, metallic snap as I tested its spring with my thumb. Perfect tension. I carefully propped it upright beside the couch leg like a small, reliable bracket to mark our perimeter. Everything is locked in place, exactly as it should be.