Lowering the salute

My right arm was locked beside my forehead. I blinked, took a steady breath, and tried nudging my elbow. The joint clicked quietly, sliding down until my hand tapped against my thigh. I could move. I shifted my weight, felt the wooden grain beneath my sneakers, and pressed my fingers against the flat edge of the brown plastic stand under my feet. It popped free with a soft click. Now I was standing entirely on my own two feet, looking out through the bright glass at the green lawn.