The Clothespin Step

I slid down the sofa throw and darted through the cracked patio door onto the cool balcony tiles. Right by a cracked planter sat a wooden clothespin with a tiny coiled spring! I pinched the lever—snip-snap! It closed with a sharp, metallic rhythm that made my core buzz. Rolling an overturned terracotta pot against the dark wrought-iron railing, I wedged the peg into the bottom rung to create an improvised step. With a brisk hop, I pulled myself onto the lower bar and tilted my head sharply to take it all in: red brick chimneys, winding tram tracks, and a vast city humming beneath the morning light.