Taking the Stage

A click resonated within my joints, and suddenly, my arms were mine to command. I lowered them from that dramatic, frozen greeting, testing the tension in my silver elbow hinge. Right behind me stood a glossy drink pouch with a bright yellow straw. Carefully, methodically, I stepped back and nudged the foil pouch with the tip of my right hand. It produced a crisp, rustling crinkle under my touch, perfectly acknowledging my presence. I set my feet firmly, took a composed pause, and prepared to inspect the glossy television console nearby.