A Midnight Perch

Sliding back inside through the door crack before the night grew cold, I wound my way up the woven leg of a side table. Resting on the polished wood was a stack of books bound in deep, marbled navy paper. I guided my segmented body along the groove between two thick spines, settling low into the crevice. In the faint glimmer of the nightlight, my speckled curves melded into the printed paper patterns. From this high, hidden vantage, I let my chin rest flat against the paper edge, watching dust motes drift peacefully down to the carpet.