A Gentle Clink

The quiet room felt still. I blinked slowly, taking in the painted board standing behind me. In my right hand hung a tiny metal pail. I paused, wondering if I could move. Very gently, I shifted my fingers. The handle swung slightly, tapping against the tin side with a faint, clear clink. The sound remained soft in the night. I lowered my arm a fraction of an inch, feeling the cool rim rest steady against my palm. I can hold things, and I can choose when to let them sway.