The Paper Tent

My paws carried me past the shadow of the nightstand onto the thick bedside rug. A heavy clothbound book stood propped open on its edges, its stiff covers flaring out like a little triangular tent. I paused, tilting my wide ears toward the quiet hum of the night before creeping closer. Squeezing low on my belly, I slipped right beneath the arched blue cloth spine. The creamy pages fanned out in a gentle curve overhead, shielding me from the dim lamp glow with the dry, comforting scent of printed paper. Resting my chin on my forepaws against the soft fibers, I hummed a low, sweet chirp into my private paper canopy.