Fayette First Step Off the Bench

My fingers unhooked from my chin. I wasn't just sitting still anymore—my weight was real. Without thinking twice, I leaned forward and shoved the open notebook across the polished wood, testing how solid things actually were. It slid with a clean scrape. I dug my boots into the floorboards, smirked at the room full of quiet figures, and planted both palms flat on the desk, fully in control.