Leveling the Linen

A folding wooden drying rack stood open near the window. Bare dowels. Pale birch. I paused on the floorboards, planting my knuckles to gauge the height. Steady. Reaching up with one long arm, I hooked my fingers around the lowest rung. Solid wood. I shifted my weight, vaulting upward with a slow swing of my arms. One level. Two levels. On the middle rail, a blue-and-white tea towel hung lopsided, one corner dragging. Taking my time, I nudged the heavy linen with my palms until both sides hung level. Perfectly balanced. Now perched on the top dowel, looking out across the bright room.