The Swaying Ribbon

I slid toward the bottom shelf of the bookcase... very quietly. A thin emerald ribbon trailed down from a heavy book, dangling just above the floorboards. I paused, listening. A soft morning draft from the window nudged the satin back and forth, tapping faintly against my side. Slowly, I leaned into the sway. The ribbon felt smooth and cool against my rough fleece. I settled into the quiet corner between the book spines, watching the striped shadows of the blinds drift across the floor.