Across the Smooth Wood

I slid down the edge of the folded blanket, testing the hard surface below with one cautious paw. The coffee table was cool, flat, and smelled faintly of lemon wax. Right in the middle sat a thick art book with a clear glass coaster resting on top, throwing a tiny rainbow streak onto the glossy cover. I took three slow steps, pausing each time to listen to the room. When I reached the book, I pressed my shoulder against its sturdy spine for support. From up here, I could see all the way across the carpet to the hallway door.his name is Luke.