A Firm Foothold
The light overhead hummed softly. I stood motionless on a coarse, raised surface. Carefully, I shifted my weight forward. My joints yielded with a quiet, deliberate click. Underneath my boots, the textured brown fabric yielded slightly, offering firm friction. I reached down with my right hand and pressed the dense woven cushion beneath me. It held steady. Balanced and grounded, I remained on the armrest, ready.