A Sturdy Paper Tent

I ducked under the coffee table and marched straight toward a thick navy hardcover book resting face-down like a pitched roof on the shelf! The textured cloth binding caught the amber glow of the floor lamp in neat little grid patterns. I bumped the stiff buckram with my snout—it was wonderfully rigid and smelled of dry paper and glue. Taking an eager hop, I planted both feet on the sloping cover, steadying my tail against the dark wood. Then I leaned down and nudged my head right into the hollow beneath. The thick pages fanned overhead like crisp white beams, making the coziest little hideaway for the night.