A Gentle Brush

Everything was still against the bright white expanse until a faint sensation stirred within me. I paused, taking in the quiet space, then carefully lifted my right hand. As my fingers brushed against the hem of my ribbed white top, I felt the fine, tactile ridge of the knit beneath my fingertips. I pressed lightly against the fabric, feeling its soft resistance before lowering my arm back to my side, standing upright and poised in the quiet light.