A March in the Shadows

I slipped out from behind the cardboard box and crept under the wooden side table. The smooth floorboards felt cool beneath my blue shoes. Right along the edge, the table leg cast a long, rhythmic striped shadow across the dust-flecked floor. I tilted my head, gave a quiet, muffled squeak, and lifted one foot, matching the pace of the dark stripes. One, two, step, pause. Tucked away under the sturdy wooden ceiling, I practiced my little march along the quiet boundary of the shadows, watching the open living room stay perfectly still.