Stepping Past the Border

Quiet night. The flat red surface beneath me felt stiff, but my front paws suddenly felt heavy, real, and grounded. I lowered my chin, nudging the glossy edge of the card. A slow, steady breath slipped through my nose. Without rushing, I lifted one foot forward, testing the white tabletop. Cool, solid, firm. I pressed my weight down, paused, and held my ground right beside the printed frame.