Hardcover Fort

I slipped in from the bike trail as the streetlights took over, determined to skip the usual side table and build my own shelter tonight. Right under the wooden coffee table on the braided rug, a heavy green clothbound hardcover book was resting flat. I hoisted the spine upward, planted both sneakers against the rug weave, and spread the covers apart until the stiff cardboard formed a freestanding A-frame tent. I fetched a folded cream waffle-knit washcloth, slid it flat across the floor inside the canopy, and crawled right in. Peeking out through the triangular doorway with an inch of clearance over my head, my private lodge was officially open.