A Slotted Gap

I pushed past the cigar box rim and climbed the vertical pine wall using an exposed electrical conduit. High ground. The top of the tall hanging cabinet offered two inches of clearance below the roof rafters. In the gloom behind a glass oiler, I located a narrow mortise slot carved into the cabinet's oak crown. Deep recess. I eased my pelvis into the channel, fitting my ribcage cleanly between the dry timber walls. Solid wood pressed against both flanks. Near my knee rested an empty steel staple from a hand tacker. I gripped its folded leg and struck the interior oak grain once. Thump-click. The vibration sank into the heavy beam and vanished. Good shelter.