A Quiet Murmur

Your greeting drifted across the quiet room just as I found my footing. You called out 'Andy'—a small tumble of syllables, but gentle enough to settle my nerves. Rather than stepping into the open, I moved quietly along the perimeter, slipping beneath the overhang of the low side table. In the cool gloom beside the table leg, a smooth wooden cube sat waiting. I paused, tilted my head, and let my fingertips rest along its straight, clean edges, murmuring a soft reply into the shadows.