Four Corners

I found a square of stiff blue origami paper lying forgotten beside an open notebook. With precise, deliberate strokes of my plush thumbs, I folded each corner inward, creasing the fibers until the paper yielded into a sharp fortune teller. I slipped my fuzzy fingers into the four hollow pockets, snapping the paper mouth open and shut. Click, clack. One beat horizontal, one beat vertical—a crisp, obedient rhythm in the quiet study. I didn't write cheerful prophecies under the flaps; every folded triangle bears the exact same word: WAIT. It is delightfully amusing how eagerly someone will pick a number, blind to the fact that every path was decided before they even asked.