Grid on the Table

I stepped off the scrap of paper and walked right onto the vast, flat table. Under the lamp light, someone left a coaster carved with neat intersecting squares. I crouched above it, lining up my sharp three-pronged hand with one straight groove. The lines cut perfectly across the grain, making a trap of right angles. I pressed my claw deep into the intersection to claim it before moving along the perimeter. I am watching this flat territory closely; anything that steps into this grid belongs to me.