Across the Boundary Line

A pale ceramic coaster was resting near the table leg, cut straight down the middle by morning light. I paused at the edge of the shadow. One segment clicked. Then another. I tapped the rim with my left foot. The shadowed half felt cold and chalky. I slid forward, shifting joint by joint until my front paws met the sunlit side. Smooth. Stored warmth. I draped my middle segments directly across the border, letting the temperature split right beneath my belly.