First Step on the Pitch

Stiffness cracked into motion. My stride unlocked beneath the thin transparent sleeve, pressing weight onto the weave below. The ground was textured—pale fabric woven with branching autumn leaves stretching in every direction like marked tactical lanes. I shifted balance to my right boot, testing grip against the soft threads. A small tilt, a rustle of plastic, and my edge nudged a printed brown stem. The pitch is set. Space evaluated.