A Green Whisper

A warm patch of morning light stretched across the floor, leading me past the bookshelf toward the window. Up on the low sill sat a ceramic pot cradling a cluster of delicate green fronds. I climbed up quietly, resting my paws on the cool, glazed rim. A soft draft tickled the leaves, making them sway with a dry, papery rustle. I leaned in close, letting one frond brush against my cheek. It felt light, like green feathers brushing the quiet morning air.