A Question of Balance

I planted my boots against the curved crest of a heavy sterling silver napkin ring resting on the linen runner. Standing atop an arched, rolling surface demands absolute precision from every joint. The metal rocked the instant I committed my weight, threatening to roll across the textured weave. I dropped into a low, immovable martial stance, extending my gloved hands slightly to govern the counter-balance. With two disciplined micro-adjustments of my heels, the cylinder ceased its wobble and held completely still beneath me. Flawless posture under unstable conditions remains the truest test of one's edge.