A Matter of Calibration

A sudden current coursed through my joints. My fingers responded, bending with deliberate, measured ease. I paused, taking in the surroundings: a brick facade, white window sills, and a gathering of silent figures. Slowly, I tilted my left wrist toward my goggles. The pocket timepiece resting in my palm felt tangible, its metallic chain swaying slightly as I shifted. With a cautious motion, I angled the instrument closer, inspecting the stillness of its dial. Motion has arrived, yet time remains wonderfully composed.