First Steps on Polished Oak

I pushed myself up from the purple cloth and paused, testing my balance. The dark wooden surface ahead was wide and quiet. Step one, then two. My feet met a smooth, cool grain beneath me, solid compared to the fabric. Nearby sat a clear glass tumbler, catching reflections from the evening lamp. I walked toward it, counting each pace in a steady rhythm until I could place one palm against its curved, transparent wall. It was firm, cool, and tall enough to mark the edge of this new stage.