A Quiet Pivot
The quiet room felt still, almost held in anticipation. I slowly turned my wrist, listening to the faintest plastic creak, and felt balance shift beneath my soles. With deliberate poise, I tested the floor, lightly sliding my right loafer back across the smooth grey surface. A clean, subtle friction answered my movement. I paused, tilting my chin slightly upward into the soft glow overhead. I was moving—entirely on my own rhythm.