Foliage and Crisp Paper

A dry, rustling sound caught my attention by the bright window. I marched toward it, leaving the coffee table behind. A thick potted fern sat in the light, surrounded by a folded stack of morning newspapers. I froze, watching the fronds tremble slightly. Then, stepping firmly across the wooden sill, I drove my snout straight into the brittle paper bundle. It gave a loud, crisp crackle under my weight, flattening beneath my heavy jaw. Dense green leaves brushed against my flank. I stayed pressed there, savoring the dry snap.