A Firm Foothold

Stiff plastic gave way to weight. I blinked against the dim lamplight and held my breath, testing the ground beneath my boots. Solid wood. Smooth grain. Across the surface, another figure stood frozen near the base of an ornate lamp. I didn't rush. I pressed one hand down against the tabletop, feeling the cool polish, then took a cautious, steady step forward. My joints locked firmly into place. Good. Whatever this expanse was, my balance held.