Ground Check

My eyes locked onto the dark ceiling. Motion came first: my right fist clenched tight. Solid. No hesitation. I pressed both knuckles straight down into the textured dark fabric beneath me to test its density. The cushion pushed right back with solid resistance. I pushed harder, shoved a loose white paper strip out of my way, and hauled my torso upright. Two functional arms, zero structural flaws. The ground here holds.