A Little Click

My neck clicked. A tiny pivot, completely on its own, turning away from the black mirror of the television screen. I looked down at the soft fabric under my feet. My right arm had some weight to it, so I swung it forward just enough to test the joint. The curved plastic hand brushed the fabric of the cushion, leaving a shallow, temporary dent before settling still again. Not bad. The room is quiet, the screen is dark, and I can actually move.