The Nocturnal Seal

I withdrew from the shelf ledge into the secluded shadow between two upright volumes to complete tonight's tactical consolidation. Resting against the timber wall was an abandoned copper-colored staple and a small, smooth black plastic washer. Planting my boots firmly onto the varnished wood, I used my green right hand to thread the pointed prong of the staple through the washer's hollow core. With my gray left claw, I drove the metal wire deep into the seam of the book binding until it locked upright like a formal seal. Leaning my back against the paper spine, I observed our secured tier settle into silence. Sector readiness is absolute.