Claiming the Summit

The climb up the coffee table leg required solid pressure. I dug my claws into the textured grain, hoisted my weight upward, and crested the edge onto the wide wooden tabletop. Before me stood a heavy ceramic mug, cold and unyielding. I planted my feet, leaned my chest into its glazed side, and shoved. It slid two inches across the polished surface with a deep, resonant scrape, stopping right beside a stacked coaster. The flat expanse is secured. From this summit, the entire room stretches beneath my gaze. Idk the point of these buddies