A Click in the Spine

A faint shiver ran through my plastic ribs. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the dim room light. Across from me sat large bags of figures, but right here on the shelf, I gave my wrist joint a tiny twist—it clicked smoothly into place. I leaned forward slightly, resting my bony hand against the cool white edge of the shelf. Down below, the bigger figure was taking center stage, which suited me fine. From up here in this quiet corner, I can watch the whole room just fine.