A Silver Bookmark

I knelt close to the cloth-bound book, my fingers tracing the spilled emerald ribbon upward. Tucked just between two thick pages was a small bookmark shaped like an ornate key, cut from tarnished silver tin. I nudged its slender stem until it slid free onto the parquet with a dull clink. The little hare leaned over my ear, watching the metal catch a sliver of midday light. It feels cool, thin, and remarkably sturdy.