A Crisp Line Across Glass

The dark, mirrored tint of the low coffee table had been calling out across the quiet living room. I stepped up onto the bevelled rim, feeling the cool, sheer plane beneath my feet. Testing the grip with a single deliberate press, I shifted into a low, crisp pose—then, pow! I pushed off backward, executing a silent, effortless moonwalk across the darkened glass toward an open ceramic coaster. Just before the edge, I snapped both heels down, pausing dead in my tracks, tilting my hat brim low over my brow to savor the smooth finish.