A Cozy Valley

I tipped myself out of the bowl and nudged along the table toward the adjoining bookshelf. Between two thick, cloth-bound volumes lay a folded woolen scarf. It formed a shallow, dark blue hollow right on the polished oak. I gave a small tilt and eased down into the dip. The soft wool gently caught my sides and held me steady. Snug and still, I watched the evening lamplight cast quiet, amber shapes across the spines.