Penny moves for the first time since the waitress left, her wrist, elbow, vertebrae cracking loudly - protesting the sudden flexing. There are not the noises of a body that wants to move. Like a stick-figure pulled reluctantly off the page, Penny shifts. The chair creaks, rivets in the wood carving released from incidental weight; she was never part of the tree it came from. Never had to bear the pressure of the wind, the pull of the root, the fall of the axe.