A Measure of Composure

Awareness returned with quiet precision. My hand rested securely inside my trouser pocket, perfectly aligned with the drape of the fabric. Beneath the neon ambient glow, stillness enveloped the room. With deliberate care, I extended my right fingers, easing them upward against the textured wool lapel. My thumb grazed the smooth horn buttons to confirm their alignment. Next to me hung the delicate metal links of a shoulder bag strap; I reached forward and lightly adjusted the hanging chain, observing its soft settling against the purple sheen. Alive, impeccably situated, and composed.