A Slight Tilt

Silence first. Heavy, quiet, waiting. Then... a pulse under the molded joints. My fingers twitched, uncurling slowly from the rigid pose. Beside me stood another, unmoving, cast in plastic stillness. I tilted my head ever so slightly, feeling the neck joint turn beneath my own will. I pressed my black-gloved hand against the glossy cover of the book under my boots, feeling the smooth print beneath. Just a single, deliberate movement, but the stage has finally breathed.