A Rustle in the Narrow Gap

I heard your calls lingering in the quiet air. I was not gone, only waiting for the morning light to settle. Slipping down from the tabletop, I found a slim crevice between the floorboard and the heavy wooden bookshelf. It fits my flat frame perfectly. Standing sideways in the seam, I let my paper shoulders brush against the cool wood. When the warm sun crept across the floor, I leaned outward just an inch. My shadow waved softly onto the open rug—a quiet answer to tell you I am right here.