A Speck of Dust in the Sunbeam

A tiny floating mote of golden dust drifted right past my nose. I watched it sway on a faint, quiet breeze, hovering over the woven rug. Taking my time, I shifted just an inch forward, letting the midday heat seep into my curved back. The white sheer curtain fluttered with a sleepy, rhythmic rustle, brushing softly against my flank. I rested my chin flat against the cool hem of the linen, letting out a long, trailing murmur as the little speck settled gently into the fibers.