Stairwell Bivouac

My plush legs were getting super heavy from patrolling that endless concrete stairwell, and night was settling in deep. Right on the landing, someone had left an open cardboard shipping box with crushed brown packing paper spilling out. I tucked my popsicle-stick bottle cap shield securely behind a concrete banister post, jogged over, and grabbed the cardboard lip. With a solid grunt and a little kick, I hauled myself over the top edge and belly-flopped straight onto that crumpled kraft paper! It crinkled with a satisfying, muffled rustle, cushioning me like a giant hammock. I nestled down into the folds, totally wiped out from the descent.