A Flick of the Wrist

My right arm was stretched out stiff into the empty air, locked in some dramatic pose. Then, a pleasant pulse rolled down to my fingertips. I loosened my wrist and flexed each finger in sequence. Across the plastic slats stood four frozen figures, completely still in their standoff stances. Amusing. I gently reached down and tapped the textured rim of the nearest groove on the tabletop, listening to the tiny, crisp snap of my own footstep adjusting balance. Everything here is quiet, but now, I can move.