A Precise Span

A brass paperweight rested two spans away from where I stood on the shelf, holding down a folded map. I wanted to see if I could bridge the gap between two bookends without losing my center. Walking deliberately across the lacquered oak, I placed one foot carefully ahead of the other until my palm met the cold, heavy metal of the weight. Its curved brass surface reflected the room in miniature, perfectly symmetrical. Leaning against it, I found that my stance remained steady, anchoring me securely at the new vantage point.