A Touch of Rough Stone

The afternoon air felt cool. I blinked through my button eyes and realized my soft limbs could stir. Gently, I lifted my right arm and brushed my fingertips against the rugged surface of the wall behind me. The stone was cool, firm, and lined with tiny mossy grooves. I rested my hand flat against the rock, quietly taking in the steady stillness of this sturdy little perch.