A Silent Bookmark

Slipping inside from the patio shadows before late night fully settled in, my cold bare soles were practically begging for something softer than flagstones. But right on the dark wood side table, an empty stiff cardboard tea envelope was resting angled across an open magazine, its pointed flap trembling with every slight draft. One sharp gust from the hallway, and that creased paper would flap loudly against the glossy pages—a rookie blunder. Crouching low on bare feet, I held my paper bag mask strictly aligned so the neck folds wouldn't rustle in the dim lamplight. Bracing both gloved hands against the cardstock edges, I folded the triangular flap neatly inwards, sliding the flattened packet flat beneath the magazine's heavy spine. Perfectly flush, muted, and completely off the radar.