Page 8 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper

“Welcome, welcome, to what I hope will become ‘Thelma the Terrier Lady,’ the premier—and only—doggy daycare within a ten-block radius!” Thelma said from atop her folding chair.

“Seeing all of you makes my heart sing. Just yesterday, I was despondent because I thought I was going to be evicted. My darling husband, Tyrell, passed away a few years ago, and with one measly social security check and the rent going up, I haven’t been able to pay what I owe.

“But then, last night, Rufus—that’s my dog—sniffed something important in the mail room, and it changed everything. He found this…” Thelma reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out an origami rose. The one Chloe had made with the smiley-face-pattern paper.

Chloe gasped.

“Inside, there was a message for me.” Thelma unfolded the origami and began to read.

“?‘Chin up, buttercup.’?” Her smile trembled.

“It might seem simple, but it was, for me, a revelation, because that is what Tyrell used to say. ‘Chin up, my dear Thelma,’ he’d tell me whenever I was sad or discouraged.

‘How can opportunity find you if you are looking down? Chin up, my buttercup, chin up, so you can look opportunity in the eye.’?”

The dog owners murmured in appreciation.

Chloe blinked in disbelief. How serendipitous that she’d written exactly what Thelma needed.

“So I held my chin up when I came back to my apartment,” Thelma said.

“And do you know what I saw? The old corkboard where Tyrell used to pin flyers for activities he was interested in.

Ballroom dance classes. Model airplane hobby meetings.

Book clubs. And in the middle of them all was an advertisement for a pet daycare, which I suppose he must have thought would come in handy one day if he and I were planning to be out and needed someone to watch Rufus.

“But that daycare was on the other side of the borough. So it got me thinking, there are a good number of you young people in this building—and in our neighborhood—who have pups. But you work all day and no one is home to play with them. And I have sweet Rufus, who I adore, but I don’t have the same energy I used to and he could use more.

So, I thought, what if I opened my apartment to your dogs? ”

“How perfect,” Chloe murmured.

A woman with long blond hair nodded at Thelma.

“As soon as I saw your flyer in the Hell Room, I was sold. Priscilla gets lonely at home by herself.” The woman petted her perky Chihuahua, who was bouncing in her purse, eager to run off and play.

“If you need residents to petition our landlord for approval, I’m on board. ”

“Me, too,” the man in horn-rimmed glasses said. “And I can help with any paperwork you might need to file for a residential permit. I’m a clerk for the city.”

Thelma beamed at all the dogs around her. Rufus seemed happy, too, rushing around and sniffing all his new friends.

Chloe shook her head, mouth slightly agape. All this, because of one little thing she wrote? People in this building rarely ever talked to each other, unless it was strictly necessary. But now they were all banding together and building a small community.

As the dogs were released to get to know each other, Chloe slipped out of 1A, still not quite yet believing that her origami had been the inspiration for the Threadbare Countess—no, now she was Thelma the Terrier Lady—to start her own small business, rally the residents, and save herself from eviction, all in one fell swoop.

Chloe wondered about the receipt-turned-rose she’d lost at the park that morning. What if…?

“Nah,” she said out loud. There’s no way that one had also been found like the one from the Hell Room.

But still…

Chloe walked out of her apartment building and over to the park, trying to slow herself down because she was pretty sure she was being ridiculous.

The park was busier now, with kids on the small jungle gym, joggers stretching on the grass, and the young Italian guy who always showed up in the early afternoon on Saturdays to feed the pigeons.

He normally sat there alone, body slumped as if he was already worn out, even though the day was only half over.

He’d tear off chunks of bread from a bakery bag labeled Giovanni’s Croissants & Baguettes and toss them to the birds, but his throws were usually lackadaisical, landing mere inches from his feet.

Today, though, he was tossing with gusto, making high, spiraling arcs in the air. And he was talking to someone on his earbuds.

Chloe didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was so excited, he was practically broadcasting his conversation to the entire park. She hid behind a nearby oak.

“I’m so pumped!” he said. “You know how I’ve been complaining that the bakery has been bleeding money ever since I opened four months ago, and I should probably abandon ship?

Like, I literally told you it felt like a sinking ship.

Well, today I got this weird mysterious message.

And it was, like, waiting for me on the path I always use to walk into the park—‘I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.’ I mean, fuck yeah, right? ”

Chloe’s mouth dropped open.

“I know I just started this bakery,” the man—presumably the Giovanni from the name on the croissant bag—said.

“And you told me I have to be patient. I can’t expect to be, like, selling out every morning when no one knows me yet.

I know that, Ol. Maybe I’ve gotta adjust what I’m doing, right?

Like adjusting the sails on a ship. Maybe people are confused because I’m an Italian guy making French bread.

So, like, I think I’ll add some Italian pastries.

I can draw people in first that way, and then they’ll try my French stuff and realize, dude!

Doesn’t matter if he’s Italian or French or what. This man can bake!”

The pigeons flapped cheerfully around him, fighting for crumbs. They clearly agreed that he could bake.

“Yeah, I hear you, Ol,” Giovanni said. “Cool, man, I’ll see you at jiu jitsu this afternoon.”

As Giovanni finished his call, Chloe leaned against the oak tree’s trunk and sank down onto the sun-warmed grass. She had done this. Sure, her words had accidentally made their way out into the world, but when they did, they really did make people happier. Just like for her students.

“Oh!” she gasped. What if she could put encouragement and joy in the pockets of more than her students alone? What if she could fold inspirational paper roses for more people and make even a small corner of New York a little more hopeful, a little less lonely?

Chloe’s heart danced a little jig at the thought. After the disaster of the last twenty-four hours, she felt more like herself now, like she might have some purpose again. At the very least, it would be a worthwhile way to pass the time while she figured out what to do about a job.

But she would need a lot more origami paper. And a much sunnier outfit than the awful gray hoodie and sweatpants she had on.