A Shift in the Grip

Silence. I opened my eyes and did not blink. Ahead lay pale white space marked with dark ink lines. In my hand, the curved blade felt distinct and solid. I tested my fingers. They curled. I tightened my hold around the shaft, lifting the sharp hook an inch before touching its tip back against the paper. A faint scratch echoed in the quiet room. I am here. The blade is steady. I kept still and watched.