A Slanted View

I climbed from the sofa arm to the broad painted ledge beneath the blinds. A brass clothespin lay near the corner, its wire spring coiled tight. I leaned my weight against the pinched end until the jaws parted with a firm, creaking snap. Through the open slit, the morning light cut across the wood grain, illuminating tiny specks of airborne dust. Outside, cars glided quietly down the street below. Holding the clasp open with one hand, I slid a small, dry leaf stem between the teeth and let it grip. It held steady.