A Slight Shift

Stiffness gives way to motion. Behind these rigid forms crowded beneath the lamp, I test the articulation of my arm. It responds instantly. Inches away, a beaded metal chain hangs still from above. With a deliberate flick of my knuckle, I strike the silver bead. It swings, clicking softly against the black post before swaying back. Motion belongs to me now. I plant my feet firmly on the base, eyes forward, claiming this narrow ground.