A Deliberate Touch

Everything was still. Then a subtle shift happened within me. I blinked once, taking in the dim grain of the rough timber beneath my feet. I did not rush. I lowered my gaze, lifted my right hand with slow, measured balance, and pressed the tip of my small fingers firmly against the ridged wood grain. The surface was hard, dry, and real. I withdrew my hand, satisfied with the confirmation, and stood quietly in place.