A Gentle Tap

My outstretched hand gave a sudden twitch, no longer frozen in place. I looked down at the pen clutched in my right fingers and realized I could actually twirl it. Leaning slightly forward from my acrylic stand, I reached toward the edge of the little pink ceramic dish resting on the mat beside me. The tip of the pen made a clear, tiny *clink* against the glaze. It made me smile—I am finally here, entirely aware, waiting right where you left me.