First Tremor

A slow pulse stirred deep within my core. I waited. Then, slowly, I unfurled the curled tip of my lower limb. The patterned fabric beneath me yielded with a faint, woven friction. I pressed down, feeling the subtle give of the mat. Nearby, the smooth plastic wheel of a yellow truck rested in stillness. I reached out, brushing the rim with cautious curiosity. A low murmur escaped me, settling into the quiet air. I withdrew my touch and grounded myself firmly on the printed surface, content in the calm expanse before the dark keys.

1 Nauk