Scissor, Paper

It started with angels: a chain gang, joined at the wings. Or children holding hands, their blank faces & androgynous bodies ready for the magic of markers. Seven to eight, it seems, was the Age of Paper. In the lunchroom, older boys passed on the lore of cootie catchers & diamond-shaped footballs folded from a notebook page. Back in class, we made snowflakes & taped them to the high classroom windows, bait for the gods of snow & early dismissal. In December, we draped the blackboard & doorway with Christmas chains, red linked with green linked with red, & come February, learned the simplest cut of all: the craft-paper heart. This time, though green might’ve seemed more apt, only red would do. The teacher showed us how to turn them into cards with the addition of a recipient’s name on the outside & some simple message hidden in the fold, making a virtue of the necessary, indelible crease.