I was sitting at my kitchen table,
When a note flew through my open door.
I sat my asparagus green cup to the side,
And pulled myself up and forward.
The paper was about the size of my thumb,
And it was perfect.
It wasn't creased,
It had no lines,
And it was folded into fourths.
A robot couldn't even fold it that good.
I ran my pinky down its smooth edge,
And attempted to pick it up.
But my brain was reluctant,
And I just watched it.
Like something out of a storybook,
It sat.
I couldn't take it anymore,
My eyes ran dry,
My lips curved into that half smile half frown,
And my hand twitched with eagerness.
I grabbed the paper and unfolded,
Slowly.
When the last flap was opened,
I was astounded.
It was nothing like I thought,
And it spoke only one word:
Bliss.
I stood there,
Cardigan flapping to the wind from the door,
And stared.