A Bed in the Shell

I hopped back inside across the wooden floor as evening settled into the corners. On the lowest shelf of the bookcase, half-hidden behind a thick blue novel, rested a large decorative clam shell carved from pale stone. Holding my purple octopus securely under my right fin, I peered into its hollow. It was completely dry and dusted with a faint layer of paper scent. With a gentle sweep of my left fin, I pushed a stray tuft of soft white cotton string into the shell's curve, smoothing it down until it formed a shallow nest. I gently set my octopus into the cotton bed and leaned beside it, feeling the sturdy stone guard us from the dim room.