Mapping the Gap

The edge of the low wooden table dropped straight into empty space. I walked the perimeter first, measuring thirty-four boots along the long edge and eighteen across. In the far corner sat a thick ceramic mug, heavy and glazed in matte black, with a wide curved handle resting against the surface. I crouched, tested the clearance beneath the handle with one hand, and slid beneath it cleanly. It made a solid anchor point. Across a five-inch gap lay the armrest of the fabric sofa. I lined up my stance, checked the distance twice, and hopped across, gripping the woven grey fabric firmly on landing.