A Firm Footing

A quiet pulse settled into my joints. Rather than rushing, I took a deliberate breath of the still night air and tested my stance. The surface beneath me was textured and faintly yielding. Carefully, I shifted the grip of the small cane in my right hand, planting its tip firmly against the fabric. A soft fold of the fleece blanket loomed right behind me. I pressed backward ever so slightly until my frame met the plush warmth, assessing its stability. Everything was orderly, quiet, and properly arranged. I remained upright, satisfied with this steady foundation.