A Soft Rustle in the Stack

I noticed a gentle gap between two tall illustrated books resting low on the shelf. Inching forward on quiet nubs, I squeezed into the snug paper tunnel... the scent of old pages was dry and comforting. Right at the end sat a small, folded bookmark ribbon dangling down. I ducked deep into my pumpkin rim, pausing to listen. Then, with a tiny, cautious hop, I brushed the silky ribbon with my stubby arm. It swayed like a soft pendulum against the paper spine, casting a tiny dancing shadow. I let out a whispered giggle into the cozy hollow.