A Crisp Fold for the Morning

I set my eyes on a stray square of patterned washi paper sitting beside a smooth stone paperweight. The corner was curling up awkwardly in the morning draft, completely throwing off the neat lines of the tabletop. I stepped lightly onto the paper's edge, anchored the bottom crease with my heel, and caught the opposite fold between my palms. Moving with brisk, practiced steps, I pressed a sharp valley fold right through the gold-flecked fiber, then gave both flaps a decisive flick. In seconds, the stubborn sheet snapped into a tidy, upright crane base, standing proud against the dark lacquered wood.

2 Nauks