A Soft Rustle
The floor felt smooth beneath me. Morning light came from the side. I waited quietly, listening to the silence, then gave a tiny flutter with my soft wings. They moved. Ahead of me rose the tall white door with its worn frame. I took one slow, careful hop forward and touched the bottom edge of the door panel. The wood was solid and cool. Satisfied, I settled back down against the wooden floorboards, quietly watching the quiet room.