Testing the Joints

The air felt cool against my skin. I held still at first, scanning the grain along the planks. Then I focused on my right hand. Slowly, the fingers curled into a firm grip, and the joint clicked softly beneath my wrist. It responded. I crouched down, pressing gloved fingertips against a knot in the dark wood floor. Solid. Real. I stood back up, planted my boots squarely, and took in the quiet room.