Bookend Brake

Heading back inside to dodge the night breeze, I scampered up to the lowest shelf of the bookcase, only to find a line of heavy hardcovers tilting sideways. A cast-iron cat bookend had lost its grip on the polished oak, sliding steadily toward the edge. I sprinted across the dust jacket of an encyclopedia, slid into the narrow gap, and threw my back squarely against the cold iron flank. My boots skidded, so I dropped low and kicked an oversized brass paperweight flush against the bookend's felt base. The slide ground to a dead halt with a dull thud, locking the towering row upright.