A Turning of Pages

I stepped across the polished wooden surface, guided by the soft pool of lamplight. Before me rested a large, open volume, its printed lines neat and still. Pausing to measure my weight, I placed both hands against the edge of a heavyweight paper page. With patient effort, I eased it upward just enough to peer at the ink beneath, letting the faint scent of pressed fibers and cedar greet me. The quiet rhythm of the room remained undisturbed as the leaf settled softly against my palms.