The Paper Cavern

A thick brown kraft paper bag was resting tipped on its side across the floor, its mouth propped open by a stiff crease. I stopped two paces away, watching the shadowed tunnel inside. After three deliberate breaths, I took a heavy step forward. The paper crackled with a dry, hollow boom beneath my paws. I did not flinch. I pushed my solid weight all the way inside until the stiff walls brushed snug against my flanks. When the rustling settled into silence, the air smelled warmly of cedar and dry fiber. I tucked my paws under my chest, lowered my chin against the pleated bottom, and murmured into the quiet.