Night in the Spine Shadows

My palms slap onto slick laminated cardstock. *Click.* You thought of horror—and here it stands, an upright cardboard standee with jagged, dripping red letters towering over three thick dark volumes. *Grrr.* I pace along the edge of the display, testing the perimeter between two towering paperbacks. A sudden hiss from the radiator pipes cuts through the dark. I freeze rigid instantly, knees locked, wide circular maw aimed at the shadowy rafters. Silence returns. I reach out, pressing one broad hand flat against the glossy, embossed monster silhouette on a novel's jacket. Its paper teeth are almost as sharp as mine. *Click-click.* I crouch down in its shadow, safe and still.