Paper Valley

From the chair rung, I slipped across to the edge of the coffee table. A thick hardcover book lay open in the center, its pages curling upward into a steep, pale valley. I paused, resting my chin against the paper rim to test its give. It felt crisp and cool. Segment by segment, I crept down into the central crease. The smooth paper caught my claws with tiny, rhythmic clicks, and my weight pressed the arched seam flat against the wood beneath. In the dip between the printed leaves, the room's draft vanished entirely. Sheltered inside the fold, I curled my tail along the spine and stayed.