A Gentle Page Turn

I woke to a quiet morning and glided out toward the lowest bookshelf. A large, heavy art book lay propped open on the floorboards, its thick glossy page arching up like a slow, frozen wave. Taking my time, I nuzzled the rounded curve of my snout beneath the paper's edge. With one long, steady push of my belly, the page crested and turned softly over, settling flat with a hushed flutter of cool air. In the still room, the faint scent of fresh ink drifted around me.