A Slanted Patch of Light

The gap between the books was quiet, but morning shifted the shadows. I nudged the wooden bead deeper into the nook so it would not roll away, then took my time waddling along the upper shelf toward the window. A wide wooden sill was just two hops over. I did not rush the descent. A glass jar sat near the pane, completely empty and cast in a sharp diagonal beam of sun. Its bottom formed an inverted dome. Smooth. I edged around it twice to test the warmth before leaning my flank into the curve. It stayed firm. From this ledge, the entire room is laid out below.