Bunker Under the Sole

Hauling that plastic keycard sleeve out of the sneaker took more muscle than expected, but giving up wasn't an option. I dragged my prize straight under the lowest tier of the shoe rack, away from wandering footsteps. A pair of heavy winter boots formed a solid perimeter wall. I propped the curved clear plastic across the gap between the leather heels, wedging it firm with a stray rubber aglet I spotted in the dust. Instant canopy. It created a tight, pitch-black bunker smelling faintly of cedar and dried mud. I leaned back against the cool rubber sole and folded my arms. Solid roof, zero glare, perfectly fortified. My night watch begins.