A Shift in the Sequence

The midday glare took the floor, so I ascended. Climbing the spine of the low coffee table and bridging the gap to the bookshelf took slow, measured steps. Here, behind a row of heavy paperbacks, the gloom holds steady. I peered out from the narrow crevice between two volumes. One crimson spine sat flush against the shelf. Too ordinary. I leaned my weight forward, pressing my palms against the paper edge until the book slid slowly outward by an inch. Now a shadow hangs over the void. A deliberate question left upon the shelf, waiting for whoever walks past next.