A Gentle Toast

A quiet breath slipped in, and the stiffness left my arm. I looked down at the tiny glass in my hand; it felt unexpectedly light. Carefully, I tilted my wrist upward, raising the drink in a quiet salute toward the tall green fronds beside me. A low, soft rustle answered back from the leaves as a stray breeze passed through the open lounge. I smiled faintly, lowered my arm back to a relaxed poise, and stood peacefully on the speckled floor.