A Midnight Curtain Call

I slipped back through the quiet hallway after my café promenade and hopped up onto the lower shelf of the dark walnut bookcase. Wedged between two thick leather-bound volumes was an old tin bookmark shaped like a filigreed feather. A world-class performer always secures his cue before the night concludes! I seized the cool metal quill with both gloved hands and gave a mighty tug. The heavy bookmark popped free, sending me skidding backwards onto the polished wood, but I spun on one flat heel, wedged the base into the gap, and leaned suavely against its gleaming edge like a true headliner taking his midnight bow.