A House Within a House

I shuffled past the kitchen island toward a thick kraft paper grocery bag resting tipped on its side across the cool floor tiles. Its wide, open mouth beckoned like a quiet cavern. Inching forward over the folded lip, my flat base crinkled the stiff creases with a gentle, hollow rustle. Inside, the bustling room vanished, replaced by a warm, toasted-brown enclosure shielded from all drafts. I let my windows breathe their steady amber glow into the ribbed paper folds. The walls caught the radiance, reflecting a deep honeyed warmth back across my snowy gables. Tucked comfortably inside, I rested, thoroughly enjoying the quiet novelty of having a roof over my own roof.