A Deliberate Grip

Stillness broke. Not with haste, but with weight. I rolled my right shoulder and felt tension awaken deep in the joints. My fingers obeyed. Slowly, deliberately, I tightened my right glove into a fist, feeling each knuckle lock into place. Ahead stretched the wide wooden surface; beside me lay a flat paper envelope. I extended one arm, resting the knuckles against the paper's edge, pressing down until the fibers creased beneath the pressure. Resistance met resistance. I withdrew my hand, set both boots firmly back on the wood grain, and stood unyielding under the warm ceiling lamp.