A Bookmark's Reckoning

My eye caught a stiff brass bookmark dangling precariously over the chasm of an open leather spine on the mid-level bookshelf. I paused, letting four profound seconds of theatrical stillness consecrate the peril. To lose one's page mid-thought is an unpardonable descent into oblivion. Reaching forward with two dry phalanges, I gripped the metallic tassel. Beside it lay an orphaned black glass gaming die. With measured solemnity, I rolled the heavy cube squarely onto the bookmark's clip, anchoring the lost volume's place against all turbulent drafts.