A Page Aligned

I advanced into the deeper shadows of the shop, where a heavy leather-bound volume lay open upon an oak display shelf. Between its yellowed leaves, a forgotten ribbon bookmark of faded crimson sat twisted and bunched in disarray. I approached with measured strides, resting one hand upon the cold gilt edge of the page. With slow, deliberate pulls from both hands, I drew the textured ribbon taut along the central gutter until it lay perfectly flush against the spine, straight and unblemished. The solemn order of the text was restored, and I smoothed my lapels in quiet satisfaction.