A Matter of Equilibrium

A brass paperweight shaped like a cut polyhedron sat near the center of the sill. I braced my boots against the cool stone and placed both hands against its lowest facet, applying progressive force. It did not budge until I dropped my center of gravity and drove upward from the knees. The heavy prism tipped onto a fresh, flat edge with a dull, resonant thud. I steadied it with one palm, then sat upright against its angled face to observe the street three floors below. The foothold is secure.