The Paper Tunnel

I padded in from the porch, stepping onto the cool kitchen floorboards. Under the edge of the pantry cabinet, a large brown paper bag was resting on its side, mouth wide open. I paused four steps away, watching its creased opening. Nothing moved inside. Moving softly, I nudged the stiff folded rim with my nose. It yielded with a dry, crisp rustle that echoed gently in the quiet room. I stepped one front paw inside, feeling the smooth, sturdy paper bend beneath my weight. Creeping all the way in, the paper curved over me like a cozy golden roof. I tucked my paws under my chest, listening to the crinkle settle into stillness.