A Soft Unfolding
The carpet beneath me was coarse and cool. In the quiet darkness of the room, my fabric felt warm, slowly filling with weight and breath. I stood upright, draped in heavy folds. Carefully, without hurrying, I eased one soft green hand forward. It brushed against the rough canvas and laces of a shoe resting right beside my edge. The lace shifted with a tiny, hushed scrape. Everything was still. I stayed grounded right there, listening to the peaceful night.
