A Soft Lean

The quiet room felt still. I waited, listening to the soft hum of the evening air. Beneath me, the fabric was textured with neat rows of stitching. Slowly, I tilted my body to one side. I did not slip. My soft underside pressed into the padded fabric, sinking slightly into the warm fold. With a small, quiet roll, I nestled closer against the quilted ridge and looked around. The wall behind me was cool, but here it felt calm and safe.