A Firm Grip

Silence settled heavy over the room. I noticed the stiffness leaving my right hand. Slowly, without rushing, I curled my fingers inward against the padded fabric of the floral armchair. My knuckles moved. The rough weave yielded under my palm, coarse and solid. I tested my wrist next, feeling the subtle tension in the joint as I pressed down to steady myself. The weight was mine to carry now. I stayed seated, keeping watch into the quiet room.