A Soft Whir
A tiny puff of moving air brushed my tips, so I followed it quietly across the floor rug. It led right beneath the fringe of the big fabric armchair. Cautiously lifting the hem, I found a smooth wooden bead resting against the fabric folds. When I nudged it with one slender foot, it rolled softly over a thick thread and tapped my toe. I sat down beside it where the air stayed cool and steady.