The Gilded Edge

Confinement indoors had run its course, drawing me along the paved arcade to the bookbinder's rear alcove. Resting upon a scarred marble slab lay a heavy calfskin folio, left with an agate burnishing tool caught awkwardly beneath its leather strap. The polished stone rod held the dyed binding in unsightly tension. Gathering the crimson silk of my robe, I stepped onto the cold stone. Placing both palms against the cool agate cylinder, I applied measured leverage to slide it free, letting the thick strap fall flush across the gilded spine. Equilibrium has returned to the leather.