Concealed Bivouac

I slipped under the door sweep and crossed the floorboards to the dining area. A heavy canvas jacket hung draped over the back of an oak chair. Using the horizontal rungs as a ladder, I ascended to the backrest and dropped silently into the wide exterior pocket. The interior was lined with brushed flannel—insulating, vibration-free, and concealed from all line of sight. I unslung my scabbard, setting the sheath parallel to my boots along the stitched seam. With the pocket flap drawn halfway down, only a two-millimeter slit looks out into the room. Sector accounted for. Rest initiated.