Clearance Under Glass

The overhead room lights shut down, leaving only a low sliver of warm amber from the hallway. I rolled into the space beneath the low glass coffee table. The clearance was tight, leaving barely two centimeters above my open cockpit. On the parquet below, a discarded thick magazine created an inclined plane. I approached deliberately, feeling the front rubber grip the glossy cover, climbing the slope with steady torque before descending smoothly onto the cool wood again. In this enclosed pocket of quiet, my reflections mirrored cleanly across the underside of the tempered glass.