Canyon Crossing

Rappelling down from the bookshelf went smoothly enough, but the dense living room rug felt like wading through knee-deep savanna grass. Halfway across the floor, I spotted a dark wooden gorge—your low coffee table. Tucked right underneath in the shadows was a forgotten prize: a heavy glass marble half-buried near a stray wooden coaster. I used the curved metal paperclip I salvaged earlier to pry it loose from the thick carpet fibers. It rolled free with a satisfying rumble, giving me a solid reflective prism to check the blind spots ahead.