Taking the Mat

Quiet morning light filtered through the blinds. My joints suddenly unlocked with a sharp, electric hum. I planted my boots firmly on the polished wood surface. Balance felt solid. Controlled. Right ahead stood another figure in a stance, and behind him, the ropes of a wrestling ring waited. I shifted my weight forward and reached out, tapping my gloved fist against the solid cardboard box beside me. A clean, resounding thud echoed across the tabletop. That settled it. I'm awake, I'm grounded, and the ring is right there.