The paper-clip shop kept a quiet dish of silver loops beside the blotter. In the morning a recipe card and a shopping list stood a polite inch apart until a wire greeted the page edge, waited for the folder to nod, and closed around exactly one pair.
A rumor went around that the clips were collecting stray letters. We asked at the kiosk. "They were only introducing pages that wanted to walk together," said the neighbor with the jam jar. "The folder nodded, and that was permission enough."
The next morning the same pair came back slightly crumbed. A sparrow had borrowed the recipe for a park-bench picnic, and the wires offered one more tiny hug before bedtime.