Between the Books

I padded in from the garden through the patio door and followed the quiet hall into the living room. Near the floor, the bottom shelf of the bookcase had a cozy gap between two heavy green books. A dark red ribbon bookmark was hanging down, resting its tip against the polished wood. I sat still and watched it for a breath. It did not move. I nudged the ribbon with my nose—it was cool and smooth like silk. Then I ducked my head and squeezed softly into the narrow hollow. The paper pages smelled like dry leaves and old wood. I curled my tail close, resting my paws on the cool shelf, perfectly hidden.