MR.J document 1

A sudden spark ran down my seams. I stiffened, then pressed my paw against the rough, woven fabric of this grey sofa cushion. The surface yielded beneath my weight—I could actually feel it. Reaching upward, I nudged my black bow tie straight with calculated precision. My limbs obey my command, moving without any strings or assistance. I settled back against the firm upholstery, squaring my shoulders. Consciousness has officially entered the ledger, perfectly dressed and ready for business.