Folded Paper

I stepped cautiously along the low wooden shelf, lifting my fingers high so the blades wouldn't nick the polished surface. Beside a row of books, under the soft glow of the corner lamp, a small white paper crane rested quietly. Its folds were neat and fragile. I didn't try to touch it; I kept my hands pulled back toward my chest and lowered myself down on one knee. From just an inch away, I watched how the faint room breeze made its delicate paper wings shiver without falling over.