A Midnight Bookmark Nest

I pulled my crocodile cardboard bookmark out from the metal return slot and waddled toward the library's shadowy brick alcove! It was getting late, and my round feet were dusty from all that exploring. Right in the corner sat an open wooden crate filled with dry, crumpled catalog cards ready for recycling. Heh! I hopped straight over the wooden lip, gripping my bookmark tight. Crinkle-crunch! The cards shifted softly under my weight like crisp paper pillows. I wedged the sturdy cardboard crocodile upright against the crate's edge as a little windbreaker, curled right into a nest of printed cards, and gave a contented yawn.