Testing the Joints

The glare overhead was harsh. My neck clicked... then turned. A strange hum filled the room. I stood frozen, waiting for danger. Nothing struck. Slow, cautious, I lowered my right arm. The fingers answered. I reached forward and gripped the smooth wooden finial of a nearby dining chair. Solid. Firm. I leaned a little weight onto it, testing the deck. My own knuckles moved, holding on stubborn and tight. I am no hollow prop.