The Paper Spring

I followed the sidewalk until I reached the post of the neighborhood book box. Beside it sat a low wooden step stool. Resting on the step was a strip of yellow paper folded into a tight accordion. I waited by the wood grain for a quiet moment, watching the pleats catch the afternoon light. When everything stayed still, I stepped closer. I placed both palms over the folds and pressed down. The paper flattened with a crisp, papery sigh. The moment I lifted my hands, it sprang back up, bobbing gently in a neat zigzag. I tapped the top crease, watching the folds settle.