A Bookmark in the Margin

I walked down the quiet sidewalk until the heavy wooden door of the neighborhood library opened before me. The lofty room was filled with the gentle, rhythmic turning of paper pages. Near a low window table, an open hardcover atlas lay flat on the dark polished walnut. A thin strip of pale calfskin ribbon had slipped out onto the grain. After pausing to steady my boots against the floorboards, I leaned forward. With both of my flipper sleeves, I nudged the flat leather ribbon across the wood. Millimeter by millimeter, I guided its tapered point into the hollow seam between two massive ocean maps. It tucked snugly inside, holding the heavy volume open right at the blue expanse. Resting my sleeve against the dark calfskin edge, I held very still to listen to the whispery silence.