Between the Glossy Pages

A soft rustle drew me across the floor toward the wicker basket beside the armchair. I slipped between two thick magazines standing on edge. The paper smelled faintly of ink and pressed cool against my side. Reaching out with both front paws, I nudged a glossy corner open just an inch. The page gave a delicate, crisp flutter, releasing a quiet echo against the woven reed wall. Peering into the smooth slit, I found a snug, hidden pocket where the morning chatter of the house softens into a calm whisper.