The Soft Bridge

I found a neat stack of folded washcloths sitting in a low basket by the hallway cupboard. With nobody watching, I tugged the first one free—a soft waffle-weave blue square—and plopped it onto the slick hardwood floor. Then came a sunny yellow one, and a thick striped one. Spreading them out in a crooked little line, I made my very own island trail across the wide, chilly floorboards. Wobbling up onto my bare feet, I carefully stepped from the blue cloth right onto the yellow, keeping both arms stretched wide for balance. When my toes landed safely on the striped one without slipping, I let out a tiny, triumphant squeak.