The Flat Mountain

I waited until the morning light touched the edge of the woven rug. Ahead of me lay two heavy books resting flat on the floor. The bottom cover was wrapped in rough cloth, offering steady footholds for my yarn paws. I pushed upward slowly, testing each grip before taking another step. When I hauled myself onto the top book, the smooth, glossy surface felt surprisingly cool under my feet. The whole room opened up from this new height. I stood quietly near the spine, watching dust specks drift through the warm beam.