I went outside to fetch the paper from the lawn where the newspaper boy threw it in the early morning. I usually don’t wear socks to bed and when I don’t have socks on, I don’t put on shoes. I had a pair of old slippers but they’ve been long lost. I remember reaching in the closet to find them like I almost always do and then the old things along with the other shoes in the house hopped out of the closet. I had disturbed a den of rabbits and they quickly moved down the hallway and then huddled in a clump at the foot of the stairs to twitch their noses and regard me, brown, pink, blue, and black rabbits. A thin layer of dew coated the stoop. The sun rose in the east sending scattered pink and yellow light through the scrim of early morning frost clouds. The cool grass bit my feet and when I pulled up the paper I found that it was just a sheet of paper swaddling an infant. The baby had been crying, only I didn’t realize it. I turned it off. I’d been holding my phone in my hand and then clicked off the buzzer. I got out of bed already whatever I’d been thinking about faded away. I glanced out the window and could see that the clouds had left a dew during the night. The grass looked like a sheet of blue and white razor sharp pins. I dug around in the closet for my old moccasins and scattered my wife’s blue and black shoes, my daughter’s pink pumps on the floor, and then figured I’d just get the paper. I started to wake then when the cool blades of grass bit into my feet. I grabbed the paper. Thinner and thinner every day with more and more circulars and brought it inside and before I could finish my coffee and sit down with the newsprint, I was reading the London Times online and checking the same story in the New York Times. These were the times.