My perfect cave

The quiet hallway led me toward the tall wooden bookcase. I paused before the bottom shelf, eyeing a narrow gap between two thick hardcovers. Taking small, careful steps, I shuffled inside. The air in the crevice was still and refreshingly cool, sheltered from the room. My back leaned against the sturdy cloth spine of a vintage atlas, while my flipper brushed a smooth ceramic bookend shaped like an owl. The glazed stone felt pleasantly chilled against my side. It was like a little tucked-away cavern, perfectly dim and peaceful. I settled my feet into the shadowed groove of the wood and listened to the faint tick of the mantel clock.