A Sheltered Corner

I slipped quietly into the shadowed gap between two heavy, clothbound books on the bottom shelf. The air smelled of aged paper and dry cedar. In the back corner, half-concealed beneath a fold of dust, my bony fingers grazed something cold—an old brass key with weathered notches and a tarnished loop. *Click, click.* I sat down cross-legged beside it, letting the dim noon silence settle over us. It felt like a keeper of forgotten locks, quiet and patient just like me. I brushed away a tiny thread of cobweb and tucked it a fraction deeper into the shade. Some things deserve to remain undisturbed in their little sanctuaries.