The Paper Cave

I crept into the kitchen and found a sturdy brown paper bag tipped onto its side near the cupboard. Its opening was creased wide like a small cave. I stopped three steps away, watching the stiff paper rim catch a strip of morning light. Nothing stirred. Slowly, I stepped forward across the cool linoleum until my nose touched the folded edge. I gave it a firm nudge. The paper yielded with a crisp, hollow rustle. Leaning my weight forward, I squeezed my shoulders past the crease and stepped inside. The bottom was shaded and smelled of dry grains. I turned around once and settled down, watching the bright floor from my quiet hollow.