High Ground

The low floor offered poor sightlines. I moved across the rug, bypassing the shadows beneath the table until I reached the timber shelves. A stack of hardbound volumes formed an ascent. I planted my boots firmly on the spines, scaling upward until the entire chamber opened below. An unyielding porcelain mug sat near the summit. I pushed against its heft; it did not budge. Good. From here, the doorways and windows are fully measured. The perimeter is secure for the night.