First Tug

Darkness. Then weight. I did not stir immediately. I held still and measured the space around me. A light rustle scratched against my lower left side. Stiff. Unyielding. I directed my arm downward. It answered at once, stiff cloth bending to my intent. I took the white paper tag sticking out from my hip between my fingers and gave it one sharp, deliberate tug. It crackled crisply against the grey weave behind me, anchored tight. Things hold. I can move. I settled back into the cushion folds and remained quiet.