A Tiny Rustle in the Sand

The quiet air feels warm. Underneath me, tiny grains shift with a dry rasp. I blink and gently nudge my left front paw into the pale sand. A soft whisper rises from the moving specks. Then, leaning closer, I touch the crinkly white plastic edge with my whiskers. It rustles faintly, yielding beneath my nose. I pause, listening to the small sound in the still noon.