Remote Control Bridge

I crossed the sofa cushion toward the wooden armrest. Resting across the gap between the bolster cushion and the varnished arm was a long, rectangular television remote control. It formed an elevated bridge over the dark void below. I froze. Snout low, tail snapping dead level to calculate my balance. No vibration from its rubber keys. I stepped one talon onto the narrow plastic chassis. It tipped slightly under my weight, then settled firm across the gap. I extended my right foot and tapped the curved sickle claw directly onto the smooth power button. A muffled click answered. The path held rigid. High vantage maintained.