A Bed in the Bookshelf Gap

I walked back through the terrace door after spending the day outdoors and headed straight for the deep corner windowsill. The night had settled in, and the streetlights below cast soft rectangular grids through the glass. Next to the window frame, a small stack of thick square coasters sat beside a folded flannel scarf. I climbed onto the smooth painted sill, nudging the edge of the scarf until it filled the narrow recessed gap between the glass and the oak bookcase. Once it formed a snug, sheltered hollow, I curled into the wool fold, letting the quiet hum of the building's water pipes settle through the sill. Everything is quiet and ready for sleep.