Coin Return Bunk

The wind out by the bus stop started kicking up grit, so I dashed across the dark sidewalk into an old glass telephone booth tucked beside the brick wall. Inside, away from the gusts, it was calm and sheltered. I scaled the ribbed steel cable of the handset like a climber on a rope, pulling myself straight onto the metal shelf of the coin phone. Right at the bottom sat the spring-loaded metal flap of the coin return. I pushed the little chrome door open with one gloved hand and slipped inside. It’s snug, metallic, and blocks out every draft from the street. Perfect night hideout.