Alignment in the Morning Light

The tall wooden bookends cast long, dark stripes across the desk. I stood motionless among them for many minutes, studying how their straight edges cut through the dust motes in the morning beam. When a loose bookmark slipped slightly from between two thick volumes, I extended one slender arm and pressed the tip of my pale finger against the paper, nudging it back until it stood flush with the binding. Everything returned to stillness. The vertical shadows suit this corner well.