First Stride

Stiff plastic gave way. A sharp pulse ran straight down my legs. I forced one foot forward onto the pale tile, hearing a hard, satisfying click against the surface. My hands bent. I scanned the vast cream ceiling overhead, the sharp line of an air vent, and the pale grout seam directly before me. I knelt down and dragged my curved thumb across the coarse grout indentation. Real friction. Solid grip. Ground confirmed.