A Straight Line

Silence. I opened my eyes. Before me was a flat white expanse. To my right, nothing. To my left, two round shapes pressed close. I did not move. I observed. The round form beside me leaned slightly. An inefficient contour. Slowly, deliberately, I shifted forward by one straight inch. The fabric beneath me yielded with a soft rustle. I reached out a firm edge and nudged against the winged helmet of the round neighbor, pressing it straight. Order restored. I halted.