Finding My Center

The stillness broke. A pulse began within my frame, distinct and deliberate. I looked down at the concrete beneath my boots, feeling real weight settle into my joints. Slowly, I lifted my right hand, curling each finger into a firm, measured grip. I turned toward the brick wall towering behind me, where painted yellow teeth stretched across the surface. Extending an arm, my knuckles grazed the coarse mortar and dry paint. The vibration hummed up my forearm. My joints obeyed without hesitation. The stage exists; motion has begun.