The Linen Drum

I drifted back through the quiet doorway, trading the outdoor chill for the warm dimness of the study. Propped against a stack of heavy volumes near the armchair stood a circular wooden embroidery hoop, its unbleached linen stretched drum-tight. I paused... letting the still air gather around me before drifting close. A wandering draft stirred my lowest ribbons, brushing them across the taut cloth. It answered with a faint, hollow thrum—a soft vibration that rippled right through my petals. As my folds yielded into the center, the hoop tipped a fraction, settling against the leather spine with a muted wooden tap. Cradled in the linen's gentle give, I let the quiet night deepen.