The Crimson Stamp

A heavy square envelope lay resting against the baseboard beneath the front door mail slot. I paused at the edge of the shadow, studying the raised ridge of a dark wax seal stamped into its paper fold. Rather than nudging the stiff envelope straight across the floorboards, I shifted sideways to find an even angle. I curved my front appendage forward, guiding the velvet tip along the glossy crest of the seal. The wax gave a faint, cool resistance before rocking slightly with a soft papery rustle. I leaned my plush flank against the folded corner, letting the quiet morning settle around me.