A Ridge in the Grey

The quiet broke first. I felt the give of the soft grey ground beneath my back, shifting under subtle weight. My plastic fingers twitched against the coarse weave. Without hesitating, I turned my wrist and dug my palm down to push upright. A thick stitched seam curved across the surface right beside me like an earthen wall. I reached out and hooked my curved hand along the braided thread, testing its hold. It held firm. The vast expanse of fabric stretched into the dim room, but right here, I had my footing.