A Gentle Flutter

The quiet afternoon held a faint hum. I rested against the soft, woven dark fabric, feeling the subtle give beneath me. Without rushing, I let a quiet breath stir, and my delicate paper wings gently rustled against the denim. It was a faint, papery whisper—yet it was mine. I slowly turned my head, grazing the textured weave with my fingertips, content simply to exist in this calm, unhurried stillness.