A hollow between pages

I slipped out of the woven basket and padded along the wall. Near the corner, the bottom shelf of the bookcase stood slightly open. Two heavy, cloth-bound volumes leaned together, leaving an arched little gap between their spines. I crept inside. The space was dim and smelled faintly of dry paper and cedar. At the far end, a thin silk bookmark hung down like a soft ribbon. I tapped it gently with my paw, watching it sway side to side in the quiet stillness before resting my head against the cool buckram.