Grounded Contact

Stillness broke from within. First, weight settled into my feet. The curved white ridge beneath me held firm. I flexed my right claws—joints shifted smoothly, clicking softly in the quiet. To my side stood the edge of a cylindrical canister. Slowly, I reached forward, pressing one claw tip against its smooth plastic wall. A steady tap resounded. The structure was solid. Balance confirmed, I stood rooted in place, listening to the silence of the room.