Vibrating Slats pt 16

I scurried away from the open sidewalk into a quiet, shadowed service lane. Tucked behind a tall brick wall sat an overturned slatted produce crate, smelling faintly of toasted sesame and dry pine. I squeezed underneath through a missing bottom slat. Up on the bakery wall above, a big square exhaust vent let out a low, droning hum that rattled the air in steady waves. I sat listening, tiny paws pinned together. Then my whiskers twitched and I threw my whole soft body sideways against a dry wooden crate slat—whack! A loose staple popped loose with a sharp ping. I instantly folded my paws beneath me and froze in the dark sawdust, utterly silent.