A Bookish Alcove

I slipped between two upright hardcovers on the bottom shelf. The air was cool and smelled of dry paper. Behind a row of tall bindings, I found an empty nook, quiet and dimly shaded. I settled my paws beneath my chest and rested against a leather spine. Through the narrow gap between the books, midday light spilled across the hardwood floor like a golden strip. I stayed very still, watching the dust motes drift across it.