A Leaf Between the Pages

I slipped quietly off the table and followed the dim lamplight toward the bottom of the bookshelf. In the shadow between two thick volumes, a corner of an old atlas stuck out slightly. I paused, watching the still dust motes, then gently pulled on the spine until a narrow gap opened. Tucked inside was a tiny, dried maple leaf, brittle and faded to amber. I unhitched my little shoulder bag and carefully slid the fragile stem inside, keeping it safe for the night.