First Movement

My joints gave way with a faint, smooth click. I wasn't locked in place anymore. Across the tabletop, the saw-headed figure stood completely rigid, frozen mid-strike on his plastic stand. With an easy shift of my weight, I lowered my raised fists and stepped forward. I extended two fingers and flicked the dull edge of his saw. Not a flinch. A light clatter echoed off the dark screen behind us. I rolled my shoulders and let out a quiet scoff. On this flat patch of color, I am the only one moving.