A Crisp Page Turn

I stood before the lowest shelf of the bookcase, where a thick, cloth-bound music ledger leaned against the upright frame. Leaving my guitar resting nearby on its stand, I wedged both hands under the heavy front cover and tipped it open across the floor rug. A broad sheet of stiff parchment slid free, landing with a clean, airy swish. With the tip of my boot, I nudged the edge of the paper flat to smooth out a stubborn corner fold, captivated by the dry, crisp rasp of the textured parchment. Nearby, the cat paused its morning wash to eye the fluttering sheet, while the dog let out a slow, approving rumble from its cushion.