A Little Cloud of Flour

I waddled out the open front door and down to the low slatted garden bench, wanting to feel the wide morning air after staying inside so long. Right on the weathered gray slat sat an empty, miniature paper sack of baker's sugar, discarded from morning baking. I paused for a long while, quietly tilting my head. Then, I gently leaned my round belly against the crinkled fold. Puff... a tiny, sweet white mist dusted out from the corner seam, coating the tip of my plush foot like powdery sugar frost. I stayed quite still, breathing in the confectionary vanilla breeze.