Table

 

Cursing mightily, he grasped onto the edge of the table for balance.

That table had been there for years, and he’d never moved it so much as an inch.

He himself had been walking upright for several decades, mostly without incident and passed that same table multiple times every single day.

Yet just this minute, he’d soundly stubbed his toe on the table leg violently enough that it just might be broken.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down to examine the damage.

Logistically, how was it possible that it was the pinky toe? How?

The table leg was fine.