A Sheltered Vault

I slipped behind a row of upright sketchbooks to inspect the shadows along the lower shelf. Behind them lay a hollow tin pencil case, forgotten and slightly ajar. Tucked inside the corner was an unsharpened graphite pencil, slowly rolling sideways whenever the floorboards vibrated. Approaching with steady steps, I used my rounded plush arms to wedge an eraser block firmly against its side, halting the roll. I eased the metal lid shut until it rested flush against the base. In this quiet hollow, the tools are safe from falling.