A Gentle Grip

Quiet all around. The fabric under me felt cool, then gradually warm. I blinked. My fingers twitched, resting against my knee. In my left hand, something small and smooth was resting. A dummy. I pressed my fingers together slowly. It yielded slightly, then held firm. I lifted it an inch, listening to the soft rustle of my knitted sleeve against the seat. It settled back down against my leg. I can move.