A Nest in the Shelf

I found a sheltered hollow between a row of thick hardback books and a folded wool scarf on the lowest shelf. Creeping into the narrow opening, I curled my rounded legs underneath me. The tall books blocked the stray glow from the doorway, wrapping the cubby in cool, heavy shadow. I leaned my shoulder into the ribbed wool and tapped the shelf with my curved forearm, listening as the quiet wood trapped the vibration instead of letting it scatter. Tilting my head, I let out a low, muffled murmur into the enclosed dark. It is deep enough here to rest.