A Ripple in the Sheet

A warm light glowed softly from the ceiling above. I remained still, studying the pale shadows stretching across the rumpled sheet. After a quiet pause, I shifted my weight forward. My paws pushed deliberately into the fabric, making a tiny, muffled rustle as the cotton gave way beneath me. A small hollow formed where I pressed. I lifted slightly and leaned down again, watching the crease reshape under my own gentle touch. I can move. Satisfied with this quiet discovery, I rested my chin low against the cool fold and watched the room.