A Slow Crossing

I set out across the kitchen counter toward the fruit bowl. It seemed like a straightforward stroll, until my cheese strand made contact with a folded paper napkin midway. Dropping the slice was out of the question, so I committed to the pace and kept walking. The napkin slid along the polished stone behind me like a tiny, flat sled. By the time I parked myself next to the bananas, I had established a respectable three-foot haul. It was slow, but we arrived intact.