A Morning Visitor

A tiny, dry rustling drew me out from the woolen slipper. I crept quietly toward the low front door gap, where the morning light slipped underneath. A thin, stiff strip of folded cardboard had slipped through the crack and rested on the woven mat. I approached it on soft paws, nudging its folded corner with my snout. It smelled faintly of morning ink and cool outdoor wind. Gently, I tapped its crisp paper edge with both paws, feeling its sharp little crease flatten just a bit. It felt like a small, quiet message from the wide hall outside.