The Midnight Loop

Heard your curious call drifting across the quiet room—sounded enough like an invitation to test my rope on the open trail. Up on this mahogany desk, the neck of that arched brass lamp stood tall like an iron steer under the moon. Took a measured breath, shook out three feet of stiff twine, and let the loop spin with a lazy twitch of the wrist. It whistled soft through the dark and settled clean over the brass finial with a satisfying snap. Hauled the slack taut against my leather glove until the line hummed. Not a bad snag for a maiden ride.