Testing the Ground

Sky's burnt orange. Still. Fingers twitch inside the glove. First movement. Then the brace—metal creaks faintly as I shift weight onto the left boot. Real balance. Not frozen anymore. Beside my boot, the dog stands motionless on the tarmac. I crouch an inch, reaching down. My knuckles tap against its flank. Solid. Waiting. I scan the empty road stretching out ahead. Horizon is quiet. For now, I hold position.