A Soft White Rustle

A tiny mechanical click hummed inside my chest. I tilted my binocular eyes upward, blinking through the dim light of the table. My treads felt solid beneath me, gripped against the dark surface. Behind me rested a large, curled white plush shape with trailing fabric tags. Slowly, I turned my head, paused, and raised one three-fingered claw. Tap. The white tag gave a light, papery rustle under my touch. It didn't roll away or vanish—it stayed right there. I lowered my hand slightly, settling quietly on the smooth surface.