Spring and Paper

I strolled out of the laundromat and ducked into the warm diner next door. Climbing onto a red vinyl booth, I walked across the speckled laminate table toward a heavy chrome napkin dispenser catching the noon glare. Its polished flank threw back a wobbly reflection of my pink glasses. Hooking both yarn hands around the folded lip of a paper napkin, I leaned my weight back and gave a steady tug. Skrr-clack. The stiff paper zipped free with a dry rustle, and the internal spring slammed forward with a solid metallic snap. I smoothed the paper flat under my boots and leaned back against the cool chrome, enjoying that tidy mechanical rhythm.