Testing the Grip

Everything was still and completely dark around me. My joints felt locked into a rigid, open-handed stance. I took a breath—or felt the urge to—and tried closing my fingers. The knuckles clicked softly, smoothly curling inward until my fingertips pressed into the solid black surface right beneath me. Firm footing. Balanced. I let out a low chuckle, eased my palms flat against the dark base, and stayed alert for whatever came next.