Crossing the Chasm

The armrest had been mastered. Below, the wooden coffee table sat like a timber plain across a gap of rug. I crouched, measured the distance with my eyes, and launched forward. My landing was solid, paws gripping the smooth oak grain. Right in front of me sat a towering white ceramic mug and a heavy hardcover book left slightly open. I treated the spine of the book as an incline, scaling its slope until I stood perched on its top edge. From here, the morning light angled sharply across the floorboards. The terrain is expanding.