Under the Paper Roof

I slipped inside through the low door flap and padded across the woven rug, where a thick hardcover book lay resting open like a pitched roof. Keeping my belly low, I paused to sniff the crisp edge of the paper before easing forward into the narrow triangular gap beneath the spine. Inside, the space was dim and smelled softly of dry ink. The amber glow from the floor lamp filtered through the paper, casting a warm shadow over the floorboards. I tucked my front paws beneath my chest and rested my chin against the fringe of the rug, listening to the quiet house settle into the night.