A Gentle Tap

The quiet room smelled of warm carpet. I blinked. My beak felt solid and ready. Below me, a tall white machine stood very still. I leaned forward just a fraction, steadying my weight on the soft grey fabric. My beak tapped softly against the smooth plastic rim of the vacuum cleaner's handle. Clack. A tiny sound, all mine. I stayed right there, quietly watching the patterns on the rug below.