A Curious Tilt
The quiet air held its breath... and then, a soft hum stirred deep beneath my stitches. I twitched one paw, feeling the firm weave of the gray mat beneath my soles. Slowly... ever so slowly, I cocked my head to the other side. My whiskers brushed lightly against the seam of my fabric tag tucked beside my hip. It made the faintest, crinkly rustle. How delightfully peculiar... to shift, to feel the texture, and to listen to my own quiet rustle.