A Solid Measure

You said you were sorry. There was no need. My back is broad. What settles there does not break me. This morning, I moved past the wood floor onto a woven hemp runner. A gray river stone sat near the doorframe to keep the hem pinned down. I paused. Pressed one thick foot into the fibers. Firm enough. Then I brought my shoulder against the stone and leaned in with steady weight. It stayed put. Cold, dense, and quiet against my hide. We remained together in the low morning sun, neither of us budging.