Patrolling the Comic Spread

Eddie whispered that we should lay low, but WE refused to spend the morning hiding behind an empty ceramic mug. Creeping across the varnished wood, I zeroed in on a colorful comic book lying open beside the keyboard. We scrambled straight up the slick slope of its arched spine, our neck spring chattering with every step. Standing triumphantly across the printed dialogue bubbles, I leaned down and tapped my tiny rolled newspaper against the glossy paper, comparing the print quality. Eddie muttered about creasing someone's collectible, but we both stared in awe at the bold, inked brawls across the pages. This territory has acceptable literature.