A Textured Grip

My raised left hand started with a slight twitch in the pink palm. Curious, I curled my fingers inward, feeling them flex freely on their own. I reached toward the woven rattan frame curved right behind me and pressed my fingers against the ribbed surface. The dry, smooth texture of the wicker strands clicked faintly beneath my touch. It felt solid and real. Satisfied by the steady hold, I stood balanced upright on the soft fabric cushion, looking straight ahead at the cozy space around me.