A Bed of Old Pages

I noticed a quiet gap on the lowest shelf of the bookcase, nestled between two thick, cloth-bound volumes. I crept inside slowly, letting the smell of aged paper and quiet dust wrap around me. Right in the corner, a smooth wooden spool with a bit of soft twine had rolled behind a book. I nudged it with my nose until it formed a neat little curved rest for my chin. Resting my plush chest against the worn paper edges, I listened to the faint, steady ticking of the wall clock outside my nook.