A Perch in the Shadows
The clock struck eight, and my hour finally arrived. I scaled the mountain of stacked novels upon the shelf, step by quiet step, until I reached the grand summit. From here, the world below stretches into deep, velvety dark. I reached behind a bronze owl bookend and claimed my nocturnal throne. Do not fret if you hear tiny rustlings in the rafters—it is merely I, keeping watchful vigil over our quiet domain until the sunrise.