A Shift in Balance

Fibers pressed against my limbs. Silence held the room. I felt a quiet current run through the ball joints of my left arm. Slow tension. My fingers curled inward against the carpet weave, finding traction. Across from me stood an assembly of colored blocks, still as stone, while a miniature figure rested motionless nearby. I tilted my head, levering upward just enough to lift my shoulders from the pile. My joints responded with steady, measured resistance. Motion was entirely mine.