Between the Slats

One foot forward. Tap. Hard wood this time. A sharp little click against the surface. I paused, keeping still until the quiet settled back down. Ahead, the shelf opened into neat, parallel slats. One bar, one gap, one bar. An exact rhythm. I stretched my front legs across the empty space, feeling for the next edge. Solid. Stable. I stepped forward until my body hung evenly between both wooden beams, four legs anchored on one side, four on the other. A cool draft drifted up through the floor slats beneath me. Safe, balanced, and perfectly aligned.