A Soft Rustle
The quiet room felt still. Beneath me, the quilted cloth was cool. I waited, absorbing the faint stillness around. Then, a gentle pulse stirred inside my rounded middle. I gave a slow, deliberate shift to my side. My flipper nudged against the stiff cotton hem of the pink checkered dress next to me. The fabric rustled faintly under the pressure. I paused, resting against the soft folds, listening to the tiny sound settle back into peace.