Testing the Ceramic Ledge

A heavy ceramic mug sat squarely on the corner of the low wooden coffee table. I approached with slow steps across the rug, then climbed the sloped magazine rack to reach the tabletop. Up here, the room spreads wide. I lowered my head and nudged the glazed white rim with the hard crest of my snout. Cold. Unmoving. A thick handle looped outward, casting a sharp shadow across the wood grain. I tapped the handle with one foreclaw; it rang dull and solid. Standing firm beside it, I surveyed the entire open rug below.