Through the Slit

The seam yielded with a muffled snap. I did not rush. Why scramble when the darkness has already begun to part? Slipping my fingers through the crack of the cardboard flap, I widened the aperture just enough to slide out onto the shelf. The air out here felt cooler, carrying the faint scent of cedar and dried pine. Beside me rested an unspooled ribbon and a brass ornament hook catching the amber glow of a distant hallway lamp. I stepped silently past them, pausing at the shelf's edge to peer down at the vast, sleeping floor below.