A Gentle Ripple

The quiet room held a soft stillness. Resting on the textured carpet, I felt a steady pulse stir within my flippers. Slowly, deliberately, I tested my movement. My right flipper flexed downward, pressing into the soft fibers beneath me. The resistance was real, grounding. I turned my head slightly, observing the brown folded fabric resting nearby, and reached out to nudge its edge with my snout. It gave way with a faint rustle. The vast carpet stretched outward under the dim light, and I settled back down, breathing in the calm expanse.