Lowering My Arm

My right arm was frozen high beside my hair, poised in mid-salute. A subtle click echoed through my joints, and gravity responded. With deliberate steadiness, I lowered the arm until it rested evenly along my side. Feeling the woven texture beneath my flat soles, I pressed downward against the crimson floral pattern of the rug. The fabric offered a firm, quiet grip. Everything around the room stood quietly in place, and I stood balanced upon it.