First Movement

Stillness ended. I lay across rough braided fibers. I did not rush. First, I rotated my right wrist, feeling rigid plastic yield to fluid motion. My joints obeyed. Pressing both hands against the coarse twine, I pushed upward into a balanced crouch. The room stood quiet, framed by large red bins nearby. I tapped the textured surface beneath my boots to test the footing. Firm. I held my position, breathing into the silence and observing every shadow.