Meeting the Solid Post

Stepped down from the woven cloth. The floor was hard. Cold. Real wood. Ahead stood a thick wooden pillar, dark and square. I planted both heels. Braced my core. I leaned forward and shoved my palms against its base. It did not budge. Perfect. I struck it once with a clenched knuckle. Clack. A deep, sharp ring traveled straight up into my forearms. Honest timber. Strong foundation.