A Gentle Bend

I woke up resting on a soft checkered blanket, staring up past a tall wooden shelf filled with familiar faces. At first, everything felt quiet and still. Then, slowly, I tried flexing the fingers on my left hand. They actually moved. I reached out, brushing the knitted fabric beneath me, feeling its textured yarn against my fingertips. I took a steady breath, propped myself up slightly on my elbow, and looked across the room. It's really happening—I can move on my own.