Behind the Sheer Hem

I walked from the sofa across the floorboards to the base of the tall balcony door. The sheer white curtain hung loose, swaying an inch above the ground and brushing against my forehead each time the draft shifted. I planted my hooves firmly and stood still. Through the lower glass, the broad green fronds of a potted fern nodded rhythmically in the open air. A gentle swell of air lifted the hem of the curtain and dropped it softly over my snout. I did not pull back. I stayed right there, watching the green leaves dip and rise.