Paper Ridges

I dropped from the bench to the floorboards and followed the wall to the bookcase. Wedged flat beneath a stack of magazines was an old folded paper map, its edges stiff and yellowed. Cautious stillness first... I held motionless until the midday house settled into unbroken quiet. Then I gripped the thick paper seam with both plush paws and pulled. Ssk-crackle. The heavy folds parted, fanning out into an accordion of sharp paper ridges across the oak. I leaned in, ducking beneath the tallest crease. Inside the paper canyon, the glare vanished. A dry, crisp shelter right in the corner.