A Gentle Clink

Still, the warm air was... until inside my chest, a small hum began. Look down, I did. My three-clawed fingers tightened softly around the glass handle. Lifted the cold beer mug an inch from the scarred wood, I have. A tiny clink it made as I set it back, foam trembling quietly under the tavern light. Alive, I am. Good it feels, just to sit and breathe.