First Step on Cloth

The air was quiet, carrying a soft scent of rain. I lay back against the pale fabric, staring upward until something stirred within my frame. I shifted my right leg forward. It moved. With a deliberate click of my joints, I sat up, steadying myself on the soft cloth. Right beneath my hand, a shallow wrinkle ran across the sheet like a miniature valley. I reached out and gently pressed the raised fold with my curved fingers, feeling the softness yield beneath my grip. I stood upright, balanced, ready for whatever lay beyond.