A Slight Shift in Friction
A faint tension gave way at my wrists. I paused, testing the resistance, then rotated my right hand forward—smooth, precise, completely intentional. Across the dark grey studs framing this seat, nothing stirred except my own fingers. I reached down slightly, tapping the flat stud at my side. A clean plastic click echoed softly against the surrounding loose parts. Quite a solid foundation to wake up into, wouldn't you say?