A Matter of Calibration

My joints responded with subtle, measured tension. Standing on the light-grained table, I turned my left wrist upward. The sculpted watch stayed fixed, but my right fingers moved smoothly against the synthetic strap, testing the tension. Nearby sat a dark ceramic sake bottle wrapped with a white paper napkin at its neck. I reached out and tapped the glossy porcelain with two knuckles. Solid. Grounded. The faint click confirmed real weight and real distance. I settled back into an upright stance, surveying the quiet dining room.