Drop the Fist

My right arm was frozen high above my head. Solid plastic, stuck in pose. Then my shoulder clicked. I pulled it down myself. Felt the weight shift in my boots. Right behind me stood a small blue barrel. I gave the rim a deliberate tap with my left knuckle. It sounded hollow, dull, real. The blonde figure beside me stared straight ahead, frozen still. Not me. I lowered my stance, planted both feet flat on the gray platform, and stayed right there.

1 Nauk