For a while there was an elastic band gripping her wrist.
Then it snapped.
The taught frantic energy became dusty residue, a shed snakes skin. Fragments of it lay in the crevices of her cupped palm. Parts of it seemed to wriggle, until they didn't ache any more.
Looking up, the room remained quiet. A bad song landed through the speakers. Time started back up again. The pieces had to be scraped into the apron.