A Sheltered Post

I slipped through the one-inch gap of the desk drawer into the cool gloom inside. The interior smelled of aged cedar and graphite. Along the velvet-lined tray, a small wooden ink stamp lay tilted askew against a neat row of brass paper fasteners, crowding the corner. I stepped between two compartment dividers and used the blunt tail cap of my scythe handle to nudge the stamp flush against the cedar partition. It settled with a muted tap, clearing a clean, cushioned recess. Leaning back against the wood with my scythe grounded beside me, the thin slit of ambient light entering from above keeps the room below in clear view. The post is secure.