A Soft Rustle

Quiet... sss. My feet pressed against the white surface below. Solid. Stiff. Then, an itch behind my side. I shifted. A tiny fraction. My left foot nudged back, brushing against a crisp paper tag hooked to my seam. Sss... it crinkled. It made a dry, sharp sound. I froze, waiting. Nothing burst. I turned my head just enough to watch the white tag flutter flat again. Motion. I did that.