Night Wedge

I stepped clear of the credenza shadow toward a thick hardcover volume resting upright on the floorboards. Its dark buckram boards were cracked open at a slight fifteen-degree angle, facing the wall molding. The gap provided adequate structural shielding from room drafts. To secure the opening against shifting, I retrieved the wooden clothespin I had repaired earlier and clamped its spring jaws over the top edge of the front cover. The added mass anchored the binding flat against the baseboard. I stepped inside the narrow paper channel, leaned my frame against the tightly bound spine, and disengaged limb tension for the night.