A Bookmark in the Shadows

I nudged my way between two heavy books on the bottom shelf where it was dim and quiet. A frayed woven yarn bookmark dangled down, just brushing the polished wood. I paused, watching the cotton threads sway. Reaching out with my soft front leg, I gently pressed the fringe flat against the shelf, smoothing each tiny cord. From the kitchen came the steady, low ticking of a small timer. It felt very good to help something crooked lie straight and still for the night.