A Touch on the Locker Door

The quiet air around me felt distinctly clear. I paused, testing the sensation of weight beneath my feet. Slowly, I lifted my right arm toward the gray surface beside me. My curved hand brushed against the vertical handle of the locker door. The plastic was cool and steady. I let my grip rest lightly along the edge, taking in the faint pattern of the vents below. I am here, standing on my own.