DDR
I focused on a dot on the wall–it must have been a drywall pop–and covered one eye, then the other. Its position changed slightly as I switched between the different viewpoints, each one separated by just a few inches of my face. I wondered if I could figure the distance via parallax, but realized I’d still be guessing the distance between my eyes. The angle looked small, though, and I could probably use small angle theory to–
The door banged open. It was her.
She made a loud goat impression.
“Uhhh… hello?” I said.
She walked across the room and took the pillows off my sofa, putting them in a stack on the floor and then balancing herself precariously on the top. She held her arms out and I could see her making small adjustments to her center of mass.
“It’s good for your core,” she explained.
“Uh… okay.”
I went back to staring at the wall, wondering if I needed trigonometry to calculate the distance or not.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I texted you like nine times.”
“Specifically or generally?” I said.
She considered me for a moment. Her balance faltered. She threw her arms forward and her torso back in an attempt to recover, but the tower of cushions buckled and she fell to the floor.
“Oh god, are you okay?” I said. I started to rise when she popped back up laughing. She smiled at me. I felt my muscles starting to sluggishly take up formation so I could return the gesture, but some miscommunication between my neurons and muscles produced something more akin to a grimace.
“Do you want to go get ice cream?” she asked.
“I’m kind of busy right now,” I said. I felt confident that the wall was 18 feet away. The drywall pop was a little above my head and the angle was slightly oblique, which meant–
She was grabbing me by the hand and pulling me off the floor.
“You’re not staying in here all day,” she said. “Now come on, there’s ice cream to eat and DDR to play.”