Creasing the Corner

A crisp linen napkin lay spread flat across the oak tabletop. *Squeak...* I paused, counting four slow heartbeats while picturing how to fold it without making any crooked wrinkles. One careful shuffle... two. I reached forward, pressing both fuzzy paws against the bottom hem. Shuffling inch by inch, I nudged the fabric upward until the lower corner touched the top edge. *Creak...* I smoothed the fold down with the flat curve of my cheek, pressing the stiff cloth into a tidy triangular tent. I leaned back, squeaking with quiet relief as the little cloth roof stayed upright and firm.