A Firm Grip

The stillness lifted. I drew a slow breath in the quiet dark. My knuckle pressed against the grain beneath me... solid. Wood. Deliberately, I shifted my weight forward and reached out. My knuckles tapped against the curved rim of the purple bowl sitting beside me. Smooth plastic. A faint, hollow clink echoed. I paused, letting the vibration settle into my fingers. Good. Grounded.