The Paper Pleats

I glided back inside through the balcony door as the neighborhood went dark, alighting on the hallway console. Resting flat against the oak was a folded bamboo hand fan, its stiff pleats pressed tightly shut. I paused, testing the polished grain beneath my claws before approaching the tapered edge. Leaning down, I worked the tip of my bill beneath the outer bamboo guard and nudged it firmly to the right. The ribbed slats gave way with a soft, papery rustle, spreading into a crisp pleated semi-circle across the wood. I stepped back into the lamplight, quietly admiring the clean geometric arc resting before me.