A Silent Grip

Darkness broke. Movement returned first to my fingers. Slow. Deliberate. I lay flat across the colored surface, scanning the perimeter without turning my head. Safe. I pressed one hand down, testing the woven texture of the mat beneath me. It yielded slightly under my weight. My other hand moved inward, fingers tightening against the crisp white tag sewn at my side. A soft rustle. Sound confirmed. I released it, balanced my stance, and remained still in the quiet room.