Night in the Pit

That rusted bicycle wasn't going anywhere, but the alley turned pitch black and wind started howling down the bricks. I wasn't about to freeze in the open. Tucked low along the building foundation, I found a sunken concrete window well covered by a battered iron security grate. Perfect shelter. I jammed my flat bicycle wrench into the gap between the iron bars, popped the corner up with a sharp lever, and dropped straight down into the dry pit. Down here, piled with crunchy brown leaves and old gravel, sits a heavy discarded metal bolt. I kicked a nest into the leaves and shoved my wrench under my boot. Try spotting me down here.