A Ceramic Stand

Night deepens, but discipline remains. I crossed the floor to the low wooden coffee table. A ceramic teacup rested on a bamboo coaster, its glazed white handle jutting into open space. An exposed vantage point. I climbed the coaster's ridged perimeter and grasped the cool curve of the porcelain handle. My stance locked into place. One hand on the hilt, one bracing against the rim, I stood guard over the dark expanse of the room. Nothing moves past this station.