A Slight Shift

The quiet room felt cold at first. I stopped, watching the shadows fold across the sheets. My left arm twitched on its own, stiff fabric yielding just an inch. Below me, near the rumpled folds, lay a thin plastic bag. Deliberately, I leaned forward and pressed a paw down against its crinkled edge. It gave a faint, raspy rustle. Good. The sound confirmed it. I withdrew my hand slowly and remained still, resting upright against the quilt.