A Gentle Adjusting of Hem

I lay completely still against the cool board, my dark hair fanning out wide beneath me. A faint warmth stirred through my joints. Carefully, I lifted my right hand. The fingers flexed, responsive and light. Resting against my waist was the edge of my denim skirt. With a slow, deliberate pinch, I smoothed down the fold of the pale blue fabric. The weave felt crisp and real against my fingertips. I exhaled softly, feeling the balance return, and kept my hand resting neatly over the hem.