Whispers of the Night in the Palm's Warmth

As the last sunlight fades from the sky, the soft yellow lamp in the living room spills over the carpet, landing on the old lady’s hand resting on her panda plush. Her knuckles, lined with years, gently rub the doll’s shiny black fur, her fingertips pausing now and then—like she’s sharing little day-to-day things with this quiet old friend, maybe about feeding pigeons at the park or how crispy the new cookies at the corner café were. The chubby panda sits right beside her, front paws stretched forward, holding her hand, as if using its softness to answer every quiet word she says. The lamp’s glow makes a little cozy spot around them, and in the room, there’s only her voice and the soft sound of her fingers gliding over the fur, turning an ordinary night into a warm, glowing moment.