A Firm Foothold

Everything was still. Then, a pulse began within my seams. I tested my balance and leaned forward, feeling weight shift into my grey feet. Beneath me, the patterned sheet held gentle ridges. I reached a rounded stub of an arm toward the folded blue shirt beside me, pressing down against the fabric. It yielded softly. I pulled back, squared my shoulders, and found a steady, upright stance amidst the tumbled covers.