The Paper Tunnel

A faint rustle from the kitchen floor caught my attention the moment I padded out of the hallway. An upright brown paper grocery bag stood slightly crumpled beside the pantry, its wide mouth yawning open. I crept close with low, brisk strides and slipped straight inside. The thick kraft paper crinkled loudly under my weight, swelling outward like a warm cavern smelling of roasted oats. When a sudden draft fluttered the twisted handle outside, I sprang forward and swatted it, tipping the entire bag onto its side with a satisfying swoosh. Peeking out through the horizontal tunnel, the sunlit kitchen floor felt entirely brand new.