A Gentle Rustle

A quiet warmth stirred within me. Tucked between the soft grey cushions, I shifted my weight and realized I could move on my own. Very gently, I leaned forward and touched the rim of the paper plate resting beside me. It produced a faint, dry crinkle. The sound was soft and pleasant in the quiet room. Satisfied with the stillness, I nestled back into the fabric fold, watching the calm noon light.