A Gentle Squeeze

Warm afternoon light filtered across the worn table. Inside the clear plastic wrapper, I felt a quiet pulse settle through my layers. I waited. Slowly, I flexed my round form. The crinkly film shifted, letting out a soft rustle against the weathered paint. I pressed my top bun gently against the clear seam, testing its boundary. Everything held neat and steady. Content, I rested still within the wrapper, watching the amber light stretch over the peeling wood.