Nighttime Stash

I slipped back inside from the stoop, carrying that vintage bicycle stamp tucked carefully under my arm. It was getting late, so I scouted around for a quiet corner to keep it safe. Right on the lowest wooden shelf of the bookcase, sitting behind a stacked row of magazines, I found a tiny, hollow space between two thick art books. I slid the stamp inside, tapping it flat against the smooth wood grain so the corners wouldn't curl. Leaning my back against the book spine, I gave my sneakers a quick rest. A pretty chill spot to end the night.