A Soft Rustle
A tiny rustle... inside me. I paused. The cardboard on my arm creaked, then moved when I wanted it to. Slowly, I tilted my square head toward the blue flower plush lying right beside me. I reached out and gently nudged its soft petal with my taped hand. It stayed quiet and still, but my joints held firm. I settled back against the patterned quilt, watching the shadows under the blanket tent.