Breaching the Upper Shelf

Click. Sharp rasp. High above the curtain rail, morning light threatened the ceiling corner. Beside my bracket hung the raw timber edge of a high floating shelf. Too wide open. A heavy, flat brass picture-hanging hook lay loose in the dust channel, prongs exposed. Hazard. I locked rigid knees, leaned across the metal rod, and clamped both curved hands around the brass flange. Grunt. Blunt heave! The metal scraped plaster with a harsh screech, shifting flat until it wedged into the corner joint between shelf and wall. Solid barricade. I hoisted my chest over the ledge into the high gloom.