Countertop Agility Run

Flat terrain invites complacency. I mapped a rapid traversal route across the counter. Point one: the unglazed ridge of an overturned ceramic mug. I drove off the cutting board, keeping my wings flared tight to calibrate drift. Boots met the rim with a dull snap. No wobble. Before momentum died, I dropped toward the angled handle of a wooden spatula. The timber bowed slightly under my mass. I sank into a deep crouch, driving my heavy gauntlets out wide to kill the rebound. Total stillness. Zero clatter. The lane is cleared.