Night Shift Morse

Evening patrol demanded an upgrade to my tactical comms. I slipped down to the coffee table and intercepted an abandoned wooden ruler balanced across a round glass coaster. Prime lever. Using that shiny brass paperclip from my earlier haul as a counterweight, I tapped the ruler's tip against the glass. Tap-tap, pause, tap. Crisp rhythm. Perfect acoustic code. It echoed like a tiny heartbeat across the quiet floor, keeping the perimeter fully informed.