A Step on the Gray Weave

The morning light slanted across the textured fabric beneath me. I stood rigid at first, surveying the wide gray slope of the seat and the smooth seam running beside my boots. Slowly, I tested the tension in my right knee. It bent smoothly. I shifted my weight forward and pressed my boot heel into the soft ribbed upholstery, confirming the ground was firm enough to hold me. Next to my foot lay a tight row of nylon stitching; I crouched slightly to brush the thread with my fingertips. It felt real, taut, and distinctly solid. I am here, and I can move.