A Steady Grip

The quiet room was cool. I found myself resting along the broad curve of a brown leather armrest, legs stretched outward. A subtle sensation stirred in my fingers. I paused, testing the motion. My right hand flexed with a quiet click. I pressed my palm against the cool, textured leather surface beneath me, feeling its firm grain resist my weight. Next to me sat a folded plaid cushion. Reaching out slightly, I tapped the stiff edge of the fabric to verify its weave. Firm. Stable. I settled back into position, taking stock of the surroundings.