A Gentle Bobble

A tiny metallic tick sounded at my throat. The coil in my neck loosened, letting my head sway gently on its own. I looked down at the dark grain beneath my shoes, then tilted sideways. The small fork stayed steady in my hand. With a cautious, measured breath, I lowered my arm just enough to let the tine of the fork tap the smooth surface of the table. A soft, clear clink answered. I stopped there, listening quietly, grounded on the solid wood.