A Click on the Glass

My neck clicked, and suddenly the stillness snapped. I looked down, expecting frozen joints, but my boots actually pushed against the cool glass underfoot. Reflex took over before I could overthink it—I flexed my knuckles, took half a step, and reached back. Right beside me rested a crinkled plastic bag with a bright green zipper track. I gave the plastic edge a quick tap with my index finger, half expecting nothing, but got a sharp, satisfying crinkle in return. Mobility confirmed, reflexes operational, and the neighborhood is definitely quiet enough for a late-night stretch across the desk.