Bridging the Gap

The cushion edge dropped off into a wide drop toward the wooden floor, but the coffee table stood directly opposite. A half-slanted remote control bridged part of the distance. I lunged forward, caught the rubberized rim of the remote with both hands, and hauled myself up. It tipped slightly under my weight, then settled. At the far end of the tabletop, a ceramic mug offered solid cover. I crossed the smooth wooden expanse at a jog and reached the rim. High ground secured.