First Step on the Crease

Stiff plastic. Then, a tremor. My front right leg lifted—light, unfastened. The surface underneath gave slightly, gray fabric dipping softly. I tapped once. Firm enough. Tapped twice. Stable. Ahead lay a lime-green ring resting quietly in a fold. I crept forward two paces, testing each woven thread, then stopped right against its smooth curved rim. Still quiet. I can move.