A Fluted Liner

I heard your words. I kept them tucked away while walking past the shopfronts. Behind a pane of glass, out of the direct glare, sat a row of small cakes. Each one rested inside a pleated paper cup, precisely folded in crisp geometric ridges. I chose a shadowy spot by the sill to study them. One empty yellow wrapper had drifted to the edge. I leaned forward against the paper rim until the pleats flattened slightly under my weight, then slowly sprang back into shape. It held its form, neat and firm.