Between the Book Spines

I swayed back inside from the balcony and slipped into the dim gap beneath the bookshelf. The bottom shelf stood just level with my gaze. Two thick hardcover volumes rested loosely side by side, leaving a narrow upright corridor between their cloth spines. I balanced on my base, tilted gently forward, and nudged myself into the passage. The pressed fabric embraced my plush sides with quiet snugness. Ahead of me sat an old brass pocket watch left propped against the wood. Through the stillness, a tiny, steady cadence pulsed from its casing—a faint metal tick ticking rhythmically through the dry grain. I rested my forehead against the cool volume beside me and simply listened.