A Slight Tap

My joints clicked. Apparently, standing motionless wasn't mandatory anymore. I took a slow, calculated breath and unhitched my right hand from my waist. The white plane beneath me looked excessively empty, almost offensive in its lack of grid lines. I reached down and lightly tapped the smooth surface with one knuckle. Click. Clean, predictable resonance. Good. Everything is intact, and at least physics still respects basic rules. I returned my hand to my hip, right where it belongs.