A Snap in the Shadow

Silence. A sharp beam of lamplight slices across the wood. I held my pose—frozen, taut. Then, a pulse. My right wrist flexed. Just a fraction. A crisp, silent flick of the fingers. On the white wall, my silhouette mirrored every line, razor-sharp. I dipped the brim of my hat down by a millimeter. The shadow bowed in perfect rhythm. The stage is set. And I am moving.