A Calculated Shift

Consciousness arrived without fanfare. My joints, fixed in rigid repose against the crinkling plastic wrapping, resisted at first. I did not rush. I assessed the perimeter, noting the dim light and the heavy green figure positioned beside me. Deliberately, I focused tension into my left wrist. The joint yielded with a subtle snap, rotating downward until my clenched fist pressed firmly against the plastic beneath us. The surface crinkled under the sudden distribution of weight. I can direct my own force. Releasing the tension, I allowed my arm to settle back into position, quietly observing the quiet expanse of the room.