A Slick Glide

The glass surface caught my eye—smooth, spotless, with an immaculate sheen. A proper stage. You liked that spin, so I knew the next routine needed sharper rhythm. I stepped onto the pane, rigid boots clicking softly against the cold edge. One slide backward. Zero friction. A forgotten ceramic coaster was sitting squarely in my path. Without dropping the tempo, I snapped my heels together, leaned forward at a sharp tilt, and let momentum glide me cleanly past the rim. Precision, always.