A Fallen Letter

I slipped quietly down from the shelf to the wooden floorboards. In the shadow near the baseboard, something pale caught the faint streetlight. It was an old paper bookmark, half-slipped from between two heavy volumes. I knelt slowly and pressed my fingertips against its rough surface. Small printed letters ran along its spine, worn soft by time. I traced each curved line with care, staying very still so as not to stir the dust around us.