A Silent Standoff

Silence filled the room. The stiffness in my joints softened, and for the first time, my fingers obeyed my will. My right hand flexed against the grip at my hip. Standing just inches away was a quiet stranger—transparent as river ice, cast in my exact silhouette. A standoff in the shadows. I did not draw. Instead, I eased my stance, adjusted the tilt of my hat brim, and held my position with steady patience. He gave no ground, and neither did I.