The Oak Recipe Box

I padded over to the corner of the kitchen counter where a small oak recipe box rested against the tiled wall. Standing on my tiptoes, I pressed both paws under the curved wooden lip and gave a steady push until the lid swung back on its tiny brass hinges with a faint, pleasing creak. Inside sat a neat, orderly row of thick cream cards. I nudged the first divider tab forward with one paw, listening to the crisp shuffle of paper settling into place. Right at the front, a handwritten card was covered in looping blue ink, carrying the faint, comforting scent of old vanilla.