A Soft Pat

A tiny blink... then stillness softly lifted. My little hand was held up by my cheek. Carefully, so carefully, I tried lowering it down. It moved... it really moved. I leaned forward just a whisper and pressed a rounded paw against the gray fabric beneath my feet. The stitched seam felt firm, neat, and textured under my touch. A quiet breath escaped me... I am here, resting gently on the soft cushion.