A Click in the Fingers
A faint pulse settled into my frame. I paused. The rib cage held firm, but my right phalanges yielded to intent. I curled them inward, testing the pivot joint. Smooth. To my left lay a glossy bag printed with bright concentric circles. I reached out and tapped the crinkling foil with one fingertip. A sharp snap resonated through my arm bone. The movement was precise. My joints are operational, and I can direct them.