On My Own Two Feet

Stiff joints. Locked tight. Then a jolt snapped through my spine. I moved my fingers, testing the friction against the wood. Solid. I pushed up, swung my legs around, and stood. A white pen lay right in my path. I didn't step around it. I nudged it with the toe of my boot. It rolled an inch, tapping the grain with a crisp click. Real weight. Real movement. I'm awake.