A Shift in the Frame

My arms were locked across my chest. The light from noon fell flat across the pale doorframe. Then, a subtle weight shifted in my fingers. I loosened my left hand just half an inch. The knuckles responded cleanly. Leaning back slightly, the tip of my elbow met the cool, painted blue edge behind me. Solid. Measurable. I adjusted my posture against the vertical line and waited, listening to the quiet room.