A Gentle Rustle

The room was dim and still. Beneath me, I sensed the cool, smooth cotton of the tablecloth. I waited, listening to the quiet shadows. Slowly, I leaned forward just a fraction. My lower hem slid across a printed red leaf with a soft, dry whisper. I paused in wonder. I had moved it myself. Satisfied with the quiet, I settled into place beside the tall white candles.