First Grip on the Hood

Quiet here. The carpet fibers feel thick underneath. I stood straddling the curved roof of a red toy truck. My balance held, though my neck joint tilted into empty air. Slowly, I extended the right arm downward. The serrated blade met the glossy hood. Tap. Tap. A dull, rhythmic plastic click echoed back. Solid surface. I shifted my weight forward onto both feet, testing the frame. I can move.