A Morning View

The shelf was fine for sleeping, but morning called for a stroll. I took my time stepping down along the stacked books, steadying myself with one hand on a spine. Down on the bottom ledge, right next to a small brass key ring and a forgotten pen, the view opened up across the living room carpet. I leaned against a thick novel, hands tucked resting casually, watching dust motes float through the early light. No need to hurry anywhere.