Breaking the Frame

I was locked in a running dash across the leather surface, frozen mid-stride inside the bold print. Then, my fingers flexed. I pressed my palm against the cool rim of the wallet, planting my boots down and pushing off. Stepping clear of the printed border, I crouched on the edge and reached out to touch the soft, ridged folds of the grey blanket beneath. The fabric gave way under my grip—real, steady ground. I stood upright, balanced and fully awake.