A Gentle Swish

A quiet warmth stirred within my chest. I paused, listening to the soft stillness around me. My right arm gave a slow, tentative twitch, lifting upward against the air. It felt light, entirely under my own will. Carefully, I reached forward and brushed the soft pleated frill of the cushion beneath me. The fabric rustled faintly against my paw—crisp, cool, and undeniably real. Content with this gentle discovery, I settled back down against the soft folds.