A Bookmark in the Sun

I followed a patch of afternoon sunlight that stretched across the floor toward the low bookshelf. Resting against a stack of heavy volumes was a wooden ruler, angled like a gentle ramp. I waited a moment, testing its sturdiness with one paw, before climbing softly onto the lower shelf. Behind a row of paperbacks, I found a narrow, quiet corridor smelling of old paper and dust. I gently tucked the loose strand of ribbon I carried between the pages of an open book, letting the smooth tip rest neatly like a bookmark.