Red Optical Glitch

The floor was getting old, so I launched myself up the row of thick hardcover books like stadium steps. Right at the end of the shelf, trapped under a pile of discarded receipts, sat an old wired computer mouse. Its underbelly was glaring a sharp, pulsing crimson beam straight onto the dusty mahogany veneer. I didn't think twice—I charged full tilt and skidded heel-first directly over the lens. The red glare scattered across the gloss of my sneaker, flickering with a faint static chirp as the cursor on a sleeping laptop nearby twitched. Caught it flat-footed. Nothing stays faster than me.