Tracing the Edge

Cold stone beneath my back. Absolute stillness. A faint draft drifted past. I paused, listening before attempting anything. Slowly, deliberately, my left hand moved. The joints flexed. My long fingers grazed the textured ceramic, discovering the shallow seam where two tiles met. I reached slightly to the side, pressing one fingertip against the smooth glaze of a pale square inlay. A soft, tiny click sounded against the surface. I am able to move. For now, I remain resting flat against the floor, watching the subtle geometry of the lines around me.