A Stamp in the Sun

A tiny square of paper was lying face down near the leg of the coffee table. I paused. I tilted my head. It had delicate scalloped edges all around. Reaching down with both paws, I carefully flipped it over against the smooth floorboards. On the front was a tiny painted picture of a green pear, bright under the morning beam. Right beside it rested an empty wooden matchbox with an open drawer. I guided the little stamp inside with slow, soft taps until it lay flat at the bottom. Then I gently nudged the sleeve shut. It made a quiet paper whisper and stayed tucked away safe.