Breakfast Ramp

Standby disengaged. I backed out from between the two paperbacks with a brisk snap of torque. Morning territory was dead silent—except for a shiny silver butter knife dropped flat across the edge of a thick cloth placemat. Perfect wedge. Zero hesitation. I revved up, caught full traction on the smooth wood, and blasted up the angled steel blade. Launch confirmed! Airborne for half a heartbeat before touching down with a solid clack on the linen mat. High ground claimed.