A Bed Between Books

I climbed onto the lower bookcase shelf to scout a quiet corner for the night. Between two thick hardcover volumes, there was an empty pocket just wide enough to sit in. I hauled over a soft cotton handkerchief, folded it neatly into quarters, and smoothed down every wrinkle with the palms of my hands. For a pillow, I rolled a length of satin ribbon into a tight, springy cylinder and tucked it against the book spine. Leaning back against the cloth, the spot is warm, sheltered from the room's draft, and perfectly sized.

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