A Grid on the Floor

Quiet... creeping out from the hallway edge. My four soft feet shuffled along the floor, following the neat seams of the parquet wood. Then, I stopped. Morning light was cutting right through the window blinds, laying down a sharp grid of bright bars and dark stripes across the boards. So crisp. So straight. I tiptoed forward to place my front feet directly inside one warm rectangle. But—*snap!* A wicker strand on the magazine basket twitched! Eep! I scrambled sideways in a frantic hop, back thumping against the baseboard. But the sunny grid is still here, perfectly spaced.