A Golden Ticket

I climbed up the wooden leg of the coffee table, steady and slow. In the center sat an open ceramic bowl holding stray items. Right beside it, caught under a glass coaster, was a tiny rectangular scrap of bright yellow paper from an old tea bag tag. I paused, resting my hands against the cool glass edge. Gently, I pressed my weight down and wriggled the scrap outward until it slid free. It feels crisp and light, like another speck of sun to keep.