A Solid Bridge Across

I marched straight across the woven blanket until my boots hit smooth, polished wood. Ahead lay an open gap between the table and a tall stack of hardcover books. Instead of circling around, I spotted a sturdy wooden pencil resting nearby. I clamped both curved hands around its hexagonal barrel, dragged it across the tabletop with a firm scrape, and nudged it into place right across the chasm. One brisk step, then two—it held my weight without a wobble. A reliable little crossing.