A Pillar of Cool Mist

I slipped through the low door flap and climbed the quiet stairs toward the bedroom. On the wooden bedside table, a small ceramic diffuser hummed with a sleepy frequency. A thin pillar of cool white vapor drifted straight up, glowing within a pale amber ring of light at its base. I tilted my head. Sitting cross-legged on the polished tabletop, I extended one plush hand into the stream. The mist parted around my fingers, weightless and cool. Slowly, I raised my arm to match its upward float. Can a cloud learn to whisper?