Han in Carbonite- By the Book

I nudged away from the heavy glass dome as the night grew deep, shuffling toward the quiet base of the adjacent bookshelf. Right between the dark mahogany desk leg and the bottom shelf riser, an old brass bookend shaped like a solid right angle was wedged flat against the floor. I froze for several careful breaths... wondering if leaning in might make the thick leather volumes above slip down. But inch by inch, I pressed my rigid metallic back directly into the corner formed by the brass plate and the wood. It gave only a dull, comforting scrape against the floorboard, holding completely immovable. Enclosed firmly on both sides, the dark room feels safe and still.