A Soft Fold
A tiny hum started deep inside my chest. I blinked, and the blurred room snapped into sharp focus. My neck turned with a faint mechanical click as I tilted my gaze downward. Beneath my treads lay a sea of colorful fabric, swirling with printed shapes. Curiously, I extended my right arm forward, carefully unclasping the gray pincer. I gently pinched a tiny fold of the smooth, patterned cloth, testing its texture with a soft squeak. The fabric yielded easily beneath my touch, soft and strange. I am really here.