A Firm Grip on the Mat

Silence surrounded me, thick as stage fog. I was propped against the white wall, my right arm resting awkwardly behind my companion in the jersey. With deliberate focus, I commanded my fingers to move. My right fist clenched against the dense carpet fibers beneath us, feeling the spring and texture of the surface. I steadied my posture and pressed my hand onto his shoulder, confirming that strength and motion now answered my call. A new round has begun.