Stamping the Grid

Morning route began through the automatic doors of the neighborhood library. Quiet zone. Low carpet. Over by the returns desk, a wheeled wooden book cart sat parked with its bottom shelf within easy hopping reach. Disarray was evident. A wooden date stamp lay on its side, rolling against a pile of folded paper bookmarks. Immediate adjustment required. I shifted my square parcel tight under my wing, gripped the wooden handle in my beak, and hauled it upright. With two steady shoves of my orange feet, I slid three colored bookmarks into a crisp, graduated fan beside it. Lending terminal cleared. Ready for distribution.