I climbed that staircase with no more noise than a drifting zephyr might leave behind in falling dust: a sort of mental tiptoe, an attitude of sidling through sunbeams.
It's only a minor moment, but those are the bits that I love to write. And promptly forget, and rediscover in proof, and yay. It's probably bad manners to yay at your own work, especially in public: like laughing at your own jokes, forsooth. But hey. *shrugs*
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