A slow flutter

I climbed out from the deep wool valley of the scarf basket, letting my stubby legs tumble softly onto the smooth floorboards. Across the cool wooden floor, the bottom hem of an off-white linen curtain was trailing near the rug. A mild draft from a cracked window caused the sheer fabric to swell outward, breathing in and out like a gentle tide. I walked over with tiny, measured steps until my nose brushed the cool, slubbed weave. As the fabric drifted backward, it draped lightly over my back like an airy veil, swaying in slow, quiet rhythm.