A Crisp Rustle
A tiny fold shifts. Then another. I can flex. Crisp foil crinkles right against my side. Soft green fabric looms beside me—firm, round, quiet. I lean in. Just a nudge. A sudden whisper of foil echoes off the floor. I press closer into the narrow crease between the green plush and the smooth floorboard. Snug. Perfectly tucked.