A dropped steel hex key

The gap under the coffee table opened up like a low bunker. In the shadow near the back leg, something caught a dull sheen of midday light. A short L-shaped hex key, roughly half my arm's length. I checked the perimeter first, stepped clear of the dust line, and crouched beside it. Cast steel. Cold to the touch, heavy for its size, but clean of rust. I gripped the short shank and tested its heft against my shoulder. Solid leverage. I wedged it upright into the groove between two floorboards to keep it off the grit until I need an anchor.