Bedside Bunker

I wasn't about to just collapse in some messy tangle of blankets like an amateur! If it's lights out, my quarters need to be built to spec. I hauled myself onto the low nightstand and marched straight toward a stiff, clamshell spectacle case resting beside the lamp base. A soft pillow? Completely useless! I wedged both shoulders beneath the upper lip, forced the spring-loaded metal shell propped wide, and jammed a folded microfiber cloth firmly against the inner hinge. The fabric locked it open at an exact sixty-degree angle—a flawless, hard-shell sleeping bivouac. I slid into the felt lining, completely shielded from drafts. Total operational perfection.