Night shift pocket

Hopped off that matte-black skate tool as the room went dim and wandered toward the base of the coat stand. A rugged dark denim overshirt had slipped halfway off its low peg, pooling its heavy hem right onto the dark wood. I walked right up to the thick folded cuff, grabbed a brass shank button with both hands, and hauled myself up into the folds. Tucked inside the roomy patch pocket was a small folded strip of coarse sandpaper and a flat steel key tag. I nudged the smooth tag under my head, leaned back against the sturdy twill weave, and let the quiet night settle in around me.