A Firm Grip

My joints clicked. I was sprawled backward against the soft, uneven fabric. I pushed downward with my right boot, testing the give of the surface beneath me. It held. I leaned forward and closed my fist around a thick fold of the patterned fleece blanket, gripping it tight until my knuckles locked in place. The fabric yielded, but I didn't. I held the fold steady and took a breath.