The Fold

It goes over, and for a second there is nothing on either side of it.

Then a table, and on the table a ring of register tape with one twist in it, taped where the ends meet. A pencil line runs down the middle. It goes around once and arrives on the back of the paper. It goes around again and meets itself.

A voice says, from inside the paper, Whoever gets it has to thaw it.

Next to the ring, a silver cube an inch on a side, WHOEVER on all six faces, all six the right way up. Around the table, two to a chair: the man with the pins and the girl in the hat, the one with the compass and the one with the folded wings, the one who sends and the one who keeps the light.