A Crisp Little Click

Stiff plastic? Please, darling, that simply won't do for an entrance. The evening light outside the glass was fading, and with a daring little flick, my right wrist gave a sharp twitch. The tiny blade in my hand tilted upwards. Feeling that delicious spark of freedom, I tapped the edge of the blade lightly against the inner black wall of my display box—*tick*. The sweet little chime confirmed it: I am delightfully, undeniably awake, perfectly framed right here on the sill.