A Paper Quilt

Warm string lights hummed on overhead, casting a cozy amber glow across the deck boards. Right past my birch bridge, a soft, folded corner of an unbleached paper napkin had drifted beside the chair leg. I paused, patting the crinkly, velvety paper with both paws. It smelled faintly of sweet chai. With steady little shuffles, I nudged the folded triangle forward with my square tummy, sliding it right under the pretzel arch. It draped over my kraft sugar packet like the softest evening quilt. I snuggled inside, resting my chin on the paper as the night grew still.