Through the Handle

I swung my little rigid legs over the edge of a coaster, shuffling forward—wait, is that... an opening? The white ceramic mug had an enormous, curved handle creating an empty tunnel just above the wooden tabletop. I leaned my torso into the gap, testing if my shoulders would slide through. Click. A sudden pinch! My torso wedged tight midway, feet dangling off the varnished surface. I gave a hasty wriggle, my plastic hips scraping with a squeak, popping clean through onto the other side with a hollow tap. What an odd shortcut.