I can feel it waggling under there. First there’s a crusty unsticking feeling, then the waggling. Paper cuts are mild indignities: fierce bleeders, quickly healed. Cardboard paper cuts require reconstructive surgery. I think. I think they do, even though I’m not that kind of doctor. But manila folder paper cuts, they ride that spectrum between. A sting rather than a bodily insult. No surgery but no speedy bloom serum heal either. My manila folder flesh tear and fleshy waggle has plagued me since noonish today, when I was careless with a folder that was untouched since 1995. Twenty one years of imprisonment in a 4-drawer tan HON, only to be glanced at and tossed on the recycle pile in today’s bright afternoon sunshine. Of course it wanted blood. I saw it happen. I opened the folder. Found nothing of use inside. No. That’s not entirely true. I saw what will probably become cooperative market toilet paper in the form of a college program brochure from back before we had email and websites and civilization.  Gone. …