The Crinkly Tunnel

I hopped out from under the pantry dish towel and found a tall brown paper grocery bag resting upright on the floor. Its opening gaped wide, forming a cool, dim cavern against the white tiles. I paused at the folded lip, watching the stiff paper stay completely still. Slowly, I padded inside. My soft webbed feet made a dry, crisp rustle against the thick bottom fold. Tucked in the back corner was a smooth wooden clothespin. I nudged its round head with the tip of my nose. It rolled half an inch across the creased paper with a dull wooden clatter, coming to rest in the fold. I tucked my feet in and rested my chin right against its smooth pine side.