A Bookmark in Order

I walked up the carpeted ramp to my nighttime spot on the low bookshelf. Resting beside a thick novel lay an embossed brass bookmark shaped like a quill, tipped slightly over the shelf's edge. I took two steady steps forward to secure my footing on the polished oak. Pressing my round chest against the flat metal, I gave a firm nudge until the bookmark slid cleanly back, sitting perfectly parallel with the book's spine. Its polished surface caught the faint amber glow of the hallway light, calm and completely in order. I settled down beside it to rest.