Unwrapping

The roll crinkles under my fingers—

a thin metal skin

folded and torn in half-light.

Coffee stains and grocery lists,

scraps pressed tight like memories,

tossed in the drawer’s dark mouth.

The sharp tear breaks quiet,

tiny shards of silver flash,

a crackling sound that reminds me

how easily things wrap up and disappear.

Underneath the cracked mug,

the foil rests,

almost forgotten,

almost thrown away.