Stirring on the Table
Stiffness cracked. My head turned. Heavy air, warm morning light. Ground beneath me: smooth, pink, yielding cloth. Ahead sat a transparent bowl. Solid curve, light catching its rim. I flexed my forearms, gripping the translucent crescent blade tight. Took one direct step forward. My weapon tapped against the hard glass. Clink. Clear resonance. Firm barrier confirmed. I held my ground and surveyed the perimeter.